Conturbo--Remastered
by MissLindaLee
Summary: Spirit Week. Homecoming. Scarecrows. Harvest. Teen love. What could possibly go wrong? (Fifth story in the remastered Angelica Corsusca series). Warning for some coarse language.
1. Chapter 1

"So, explain it one more time," Linda said. Mattie and Andy groaned as they walked down the sidewalk in downtown Smallville, their backpacks slung over their backs. "What? I've never heard of it. Remember me: home schooled, isolated?"

"Linda, it's not that hard of a concept," Mattie replied. "You get dressed up, you go, and you have a good time."

"But why?" Linda asked. "The whole thing is designed to welcome back people who have already graduated from the school. If anything, the party should be for my cousin and **his** friends, not us."

"Well, what about next week?" Andy asked, deciding to switch the subject. "You **are** gonna do Spirit Week, right?"

"Of course," Linda replied, smiling. "I have my costumes already planned for each day."

"Already?" Mattie said, amused. "Fast worker." She glanced at her friend conspiratorially. "So, about the dance…."

It was Linda's turn to groan. "Guys, I'm not going," she said. "Even if I wanted to go, who would I go with?"

"Come by yourself," Mattie answered. "That's what we're doing."

"Or we could set you up with someone," Andy replied, grinning.

"No, thank you," Linda said as they arrived at the Talon. She had heard horror stories about blind dates. "I'm not going with anyone I don't know."

"What about Dick?" Mattie asked, grinning.

"Not happening," Linda replied quickly, her cheeks turning red, as they walked into the building. The trio looked around and spotted Dick, Cutter, Wally, and Buzz already sitting at a table, three seats ready for the girls; the girls walked over and sat down.

"And how are you lovely ladies doing today?" Cutter asked.

"Trying to talk Linda into going to the homecoming dance," Andy replied, amused as she glanced at Dick. "You guys wanna help us out here?"

"Why don't you want to go?" Cutter asked.

"Why is everyone so concerned about me not going?" Linda asked. "I'm participating in Spirit Week; I don't know why I have to go to the dance."

"Because it's your first year here," Wally said. "You have to go."

"I don't remember 'attending Homecoming' as being one of my educational prerequisites or stipulations," Linda pointed out as Melody came over.

"Ladies, your usuals?" she asked the girls. They nodded in response.

"Dick, will you talk some sense into Linda?" Andy asked after Melody left.

"If Linda doesn't want to go to the dance," Dick said, shifting a little, "then that's her choice."

"Thank you, Dick," Linda replied.

"No problem," Dick said calmly.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry," Linda continued as she got up from the table, "but I really should get back to the farm. It's harvest time, and Mom and Dad need me to help out." She grabbed her bag and headed out of the Talon, leaving her friends confused. After a few moments, the kids looked at Dick.

"What?" he asked.

"Why didn't you ask her out?" Mattie asked, slightly annoyed. Dick sputtered, unable to form coherent words.

"Oh, stop with the sputtering," Cutter replied. "You've been doing it all week."

"Because you guys keep asking me," Dick said. "Stop asking me, and I'll stop sputtering."

"Dick, you like her," Andy replied. "Why don't you ask her out? Is it because you don't want her to find out about—"

"Look, just drop it, okay?" Dick snapped. "I gotta go." He grabbed his things and left the group, leaving his friends shocked as he headed out of the Talon.

"Okay," Cutter replied slowly. "What was that all about?"

"Not sure," Mattie answered, a concerned look on her face.

* * *

Martha and Jonathan were in the kitchen, preparing dinner when Linda blurred inside and up the stairs; she blurred back down and out, heading toward the barn, without stopping to talk to her parents. Jonathan and Martha glanced at each other, confused, before they stopped what they were doing and headed out of the house; they stopped on the porch and watched as the blur raced back and forth from the fields and barn; after a few seconds, the blur entered the barn and didn't leave.

"Not even a 'hello'?" Jonathan asked, confused.

"I know," Martha said.

"You think she's finally starting to behave like a normal, sullen teenager?" Jonathan asked.

Martha shrugged. "Not sure," she replied, "but I'll go talk to her." Jonathan watched as she headed down the porch stairs, then he turned and walked back into the house.

* * *

Linda leaned against the open loft window, numbly staring out into the world. She heard footsteps climbing the stairs, but she didn't turn around as she sighed.

"I'm fine," she said calmly.

"Why don't I believe that?" Martha asked as she walked over. "What's really bothering you?"

"Mattie and Andy and everyone are pestering me to go to the homecoming dance next week," Linda said.

"And you don't want to go?" Martha asked.

"I do," Linda answered, "and I wouldn't mind going alone, but…."

"But you'd rather go with someone instead?" Martha suggested. Linda nodded. "Would this be a certain person named Dick?" Linda hesitated, but nodded again. "He seems like a nice guy, and I know he likes you; what's the problem?"

"The problem is I wiped his memories," Linda answered, "and every day I see him, I'm reminded of that. I know it was probably for the best, but I have to pretend that everything is okay—and that I can deal with—but how can I go out with him and laugh and pretend to have a good time knowing I did that to him?"

Martha put a hand on Linda's shoulder. "Linda, you're right," she said gently, "and I know this has been a difficult time for you, but your father and I are really proud of how you've handled this." She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "That being said, don't you think Dick should have a say in what he wants?"

"You think he wants someone who wiped his memories?" Linda asked. "How would he be able to ever trust me?"

"I think if he really cares about you," Martha answered, "then he might be upset, but he'd eventually understand." She shrugged. "But you're never going to know that unless you spend time with him, okay?" Linda nodded a little. "You want to stay out here until dinner?" Linda nodded again, and Martha smiled and kissed her forehead. "Alright." Linda watched her leave then she sighed as she looked back out the loft window, thinking about her mother had told her.

(End of Chapter 1)


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the week was a bit of a rollercoaster ride for Linda, emotionally speaking: her friends had dropped the whole dance issue, but even after talking with her mother, Linda found it a little awkward to be around Dick—and it didn't help that he appeared to be avoiding interacting with her as much as possible. The young girl was disappointed, but she kept it to herself as she buried herself in her schoolwork, art, and chores—especially with the crops ready for harvesting.

Monday came quicker than expected, but despite her apprehensions Linda was definitely looking forward to dressing up in her various outfits. After doing her morning chores and eating breakfast, she quickly got dressed and admired herself in her full-length mirror before grabbing her backpack off her bed and heading downstairs. She stopped at the foot of the stairs when she saw her parents cleaning the kitchen.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

Martha and Jonathan looked over at their daughter. The theme for the day was 'Favorite Television Character,' and Linda had chosen to go as the Tenth Doctor from Doctor Who: she wore a dark blue suit with pinstripes over a white dress shirt and deep red tie; a pair of deep red high-top Converse shoes, a long cinnamon brown coat, and a replica of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, completed the look.

"With all the female characters from that show at your disposal," Jonathan replied, amused, "you choose to dress up as the male lead."

"Because the Doctor actually wore glasses on a regular basis in some of his incarnations," Linda said, smiling, "and they make him look clever." She saw Jonathan raise an eyebrow, and she grinned as she gently adjusted her loose ponytail, "and because he's the most awesome character on the show." She pointed the sonic screwdriver at her pets as they ate from their food dishes and pushed the button; its blue light glowed while it made its trademark sound effects, but both Krypto and Streaky ignored her as they continued eating.

"Guess it doesn't work on wood **and** pets," Linda remarked, smirking.

Martha chuckled then she grabbed her camera off the counter. "Let me get a few shots before you leave," she said. Linda put her backpack down and stood in various poses while Martha took picture after picture. After she finished, Linda grabbed her backpack and kissed her parents' cheeks.

"Have a good day, sweetie," Jonathan said.

"I will," Linda replied, "and as the good Doctor would say: Allons-y." She grinned and blurred out of the house. Martha and Jonathan chuckled and shook their heads before going back to work.

* * *

Around three thirty, Clark had returned from an interview for a story he was working on. He made his way over to his desk and he logged into his computer; immediately, he saw the popup window, indicating he had new email. He opened his email, and saw an email from his mother with 'Spirit Week: Day 1' in the subject with some attachments. Clark clicked open the email and saw the photos Martha had taken of Linda; he grinned and chuckled as he clicked through each one.

"So, she's gone over to the geek side, huh?" Clark glanced over and saw Lois looking over his shoulder at the photos, amused. "I can't believe she got roped into liking that dopey show."

"Oh, it's not too bad, actually," Clark replied, smiling.

"An alien time traveling in a phone box," Lois said. "That is lame and totally unbelievable."

"Unlike a man who can fly," Chloe pointed out as she joined them.

"If anyone ever sees a blue flying box," Lois said, "I will recant my statement." She saw the last photo of Linda and raised an eyebrow. "And why does she look like she's running?"

"'He saves worlds, rescues civilizations, defeats terrible creatures and runs a lot.'"

The trio looked over to see Jimmy standing nearby, arms folded, staring at the photo with a slight smile on his face. When he realized the group was looking at him, he looked almost embarrassed at being caught, like he had no place in the conversation; his smile disappeared as his cheeks turned red. "Sorry, I'll go."

"No, Jimmy, it's okay," Clark reassured, "you're fine."

"You sure?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay," Lois answered quickly, walking over and putting her arm around Jimmy's shoulders. "Clark really doesn't mind you ogling his cousin."

"I don't?" Clark asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Lois," Jimmy said calmly.

"I mean, she's really not that bad looking, either," Lois continued, "and the fact that she shares the same obsessions as you **definitely** works in your favor."

"Lois, stop," Jimmy said, more firmly. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," Lois insisted. "What Lucy did to you was unacceptable."

"And it was two months ago," Jimmy pointed out, "and I've dealt with it." He knew it was a lie—he was still embarrassed and hurt by what had happened—but he didn't want them knowing that.

"So, then what's stopping you from going after Linda?" Lois asked. "Clark doesn't mind you going after his cousin."

"Uh, Lois," Chloe spoke up suddenly, "I need some help with my article." Before Lois could protest, Chloe steered her over to her desk, leaving Clark and Jimmy alone; the two just stared at each other, uncertain who should speak first.

"Just for the record, Clark," Jimmy said after a few minutes, "I wasn't ogling Linda."

"I know," Clark replied, knowing that wasn't completely true but deciding it wasn't best to bring it up. "And don't be too upset with Lois; she means well."

"I know," Jimmy replied, "and I know she's hurt that Lucy moved out to live with their father, but I wish Lois wouldn't take that as an invitation to try fixing me up with someone just because she feels guilty. I'm doing just fine on my own."

"And you and I both know that's not entirely true," Clark said honestly. Jimmy didn't say anything, but his expression gave him away. "But I said I wasn't going to pry, and I'm not going to."

"Thanks," Jimmy replied. He glanced at the photo on the screen and smiled a little. "She did a pretty good job with the costume."

"She really likes the show," Clark said helpfully.

"I still can't believe she's seen every episode before me," Jimmy replied, pretending to be annoyed.

Clark chuckled and smiled. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Dad's helping her design a shelving unit with doors to hold all her DVDs."

"Let me guess," Jimmy said, amused, "Linda wants it to look like the TARDIS."

"Complete with working sounds and lights." Jimmy laughed a little.

"Olsen!"

Jimmy suddenly stiffened, getting a deer-in-the-headlights expression as he quickly scrambled toward Perry's office. Clark watched the teenager, then glanced at the picture Linda. He chuckled and shook his head before closing out his email and getting to work on his story.

* * *

Later that afternoon, after school, Linda had decided to spend some time in the art room, working. She sat in front of an easel, a couple of smocks protecting her costume as she focused intently on her painting. It was still in the early stages, but anyone would have been able to recognize the bright colors and patterns slowly taking the shape: a bunch of brightly-colored balloons. She dotted each with a speck of paint to appear as they were reflecting light, the tip of her tongue jetting out of her mouth.

"That is looking really nice."

Linda smiled a little as she turned her head and saw Dick approaching. He had dressed as Benedict Cumberbatch's version of Sherlock Holmes: a dark purple dress shirt (top button undone) under a slim cut black suit, a pair of knock-off Oxfords, dark grey double-breasted long coat (unbuttoned with the collar turned up), and a navy blue scarf doubled up and looped around his neck; his hair was tousled and styled almost exactly as Cumberbatch's.

"Hey," Linda replied, "what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Wally and Cutter to finish," Dick answered as he came over. "We're gonna go to the Talon; wanna join us?"

"Actually, I was planning on finishing this up today," Linda said as she went back to work, "then I have to go home." She looked at him apologetically, as if to save 'harvest time.'

"I understand," Dick said as he watched her painting. He knew it was just a two-dimensional painting, and he had been really impressed by Linda's drawing from the contest (even if he hadn't been too thrilled knowing the story behind the dancing scene), but he was still surprised by how much talent Linda had; the details she painted into the balloons made them appear so real that Dick expected them to float away at any moment.

Linda glanced over at his watched him looking at her painting, and she felt a little self-conscious. "It's not very good, is it?" she said softly.

"Are you kidding?" Dick asked. "Linda, this is really good."

"You really think so?" Linda asked.

"Yeah, I do," Dick replied. He glanced down at Linda, watching her as she focused all her attention on her work, and he almost left her alone, but he took a deep breath. "Hey, Linda, could I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Linda said, not looking up or stopping, "what's up?"

"Could you stop for a moment?" Dick asked gently. "It's kind of important."

Linda furrowed her eyebrows, but she rinsed off her brush and wiped it before setting it aside; she stood up and put her smocks on her chair. "Okay," she said, "you have my full attention. What's up?"

Dick swallowed nervously, his heart racing, but he took a deep breath. "I've been doing some thinking," he said quickly, "and I know you said you didn't want to go to the homecoming dance, but I was kinda hoping you'd want to go with me."

Linda raised an eyebrow, surprised. "What?" she asked.

Dick stepped forward, gently grabbed her shoulders, leaned over, and pressed his lips to hers. Linda let out a little muffled squeak, but she made no attempt to pull away. After a few moments, Dick slowly pulled away and looked down at her.

"I want to take you to the dance," he answered softly.

"Huh?" she asked, slightly dazed.

Dick smiled softly. "Will you go to the dance with me, Linda?"

"Why?" Linda asked suspiciously, coming out of her stupor. "Did Mattie and Andy put you up to this?"

"No," Dick answered quickly. "I'm doing this because I really like you." He took a deep breath as he took her hands in his. "Linda, I don't know what it is, but there's something about you that's special, and I know you're not used to this stuff…to be honest I'm not, either, but I really enjoy being around you—and I think we should go for this."

Linda wanted to pull away from him, to tell him that he'd be better off without her, but as she stared into Dick's eyes, she found herself unable to. "Okay," she replied softly.

"Huh?" Dick asked.

Linda chuckled softly as she stood on her tiptoes, gently and briefly kissing his lips. "I'll go to the dance with you," she answered.

"Really?" Dick asked, slowly smiled. Linda nodded, and Dick's grin widened as he leaned over and kissed her again.

"Wally, I'm not sure this is the 'Wholock' crossover people were hoping for."

The two teens pulled away and look over to see Cutter and Wally standing near the art room door, looking amused as the embarrassed expressions of both Dick and Linda.

"I don't know, Cutter," Wally continued. "Some people might actually **pay** to see this 'Who Liplock'."

"Very funny, you two," Dick replied, smiling.

"So, is this official?" Wally asked hopefully, raising an eyebrow, "because Mattie and Andy'll be really disappointed if we tell them you two finally hooked up and nothing comes from it."

"How about we just wait and see?" Linda asked, amused. She glanced at the wall clock and winced before turning to Dick. "I need to get back to work; I have to be home in thirty minutes."

"Alright," Dick said, "we'll leave you alone." He leaned over and kissed her again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Linda replied, smiling as she watched him leave, herding Cutter and Wally out with him. After the door was closed, Linda sighed dreamily as she turned back to work on her painting.

(End of Chapter 2)


	3. Chapter 3

_Friday Night_

Dick shifted slightly in his chair at the end of the kitchen table. He wore a black button down shirt and slacks, with a purple tie and matching Converse shoes; his hair had been slicked back in a classy and elegant style. He swallowed nervously, and his heart raced in his chest as he stared down at the other end of the table.

Jonathan sat in his chair, casually cleaning his shotgun, occasionally glancing up at the young man, his features hard and set. Martha was upstairs helping Linda get ready, and the farmer hoped they stayed up there for a while; he wanted to have some quality time with Dick by himself.

"So, Dick," Jonathan said casually as he wiped the barrel rifle with an oiled rag, "how are you this evening?"

"Uh, fine, sir," Dick said slowly.

"That's good," Jonathan replied. He grabbed a screw and put it back in its place, tightening it. He finished cleaning the gun then he aimed it away from Dick, looking through the hairlines. "So, Dick, what are your intentions tonight?"

"Um, well, we were planning on going to the dance," Dick answered slowly, "and then I was going to bring her back afterwards?"

"What time?" Jonathan asked.

"Um, eleven-thirty?" Dick asked meekly.

Jonathan nodded. "That sounds right. Now, what do you plan on doing at the dance?"

"Uh, well, dancing and hanging out with our friends?" Dick asked.

Jonathan nodded again, but before he could ask another question, Martha came down the stairs—alone; both men appeared slightly disappointed, for different reasons.

"Linda's on her way down," she replied as she reached the bottom. She was halfway to the table when she saw Jonathan cleaning his shotgun—and how nervous Dick appeared. She fixed her husband with a look, and Jonathan purposefully ignored her. Martha turned and looked apologetically at Dick.

"So, how do I look?"

Everyone looked over and saw Linda standing just inside the living room. She wore knee-length organza A-line dress with spaghetti straps and delicate silver sequins over the top, with the fabric below the waistline formed gentle pleats. Her hair was done up in a twist with curls piled on top. Her makeup was light enough to be barely visible, yet it still accented her facial features, especially the purple eye shadow on her eyelids and a light sprinkle of silver glitter on her cheeks; a pair of silver low heels, star shaped silver and amethyst earrings, and a matching silver clutch completed her ensemble.

"Oh, Linda," Jonathan said as he got to his feet and walked over, forgetting about Dick for the moment, "you look beautiful."

Linda blushed a little as she nervously pushed her glasses up her nose; she looked up and saw Dick staring at her with a stunned expression as he slowly got to his feet; she smiled as he walked over. "Hi, Dick," she said softly.

Dick slowly smiled "Wow," he said after a few moments. "You look really great." The two teens just stared at each other, unsure of what to say next.

"Would you two mind if I get some pictures before you go?" Martha asked as she grabbed her camera from the island. The teens nodded, and Martha helped them pose in front of the fireplace, snapping off a few shots before sending them on their way.

As the couple headed down the walk to Dick's car, a black 2008 Mazda, Jonathan watched them from the other side of the closed screen door. He had to admit he was pleased to see Dick behave like a gentleman as he opened the passenger door for Linda before getting in the car himself, but he still had apprehensions about the whole thing as the car backed up and drove down the gravel road, disappearing from sight.

"She'll be fine," Martha replied as she put her arms around her husband's waist.

"I know," Jonathan said calmly.

"Then why did you bring out the shotgun?" Martha asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"I was cleaning it," Jonathan replied innocently. "There've been coyotes in the area lately."

"Uh huh," Martha said, smiling. "Dick was so pale I thought he was going to pass out."

Jonathan chuckled a bit and turned around and looked down at his wife; even in the dim light, she still looked as pretty as the first day he met her, and his smile widened. He leaned over and kissed her.

* * *

The gym of Smallville High was wonderfully decorated and bustling with activity; students—wearing elegant suits and dresses—sat at decorated tables, while others mingled, and others danced. Dick and Linda walked into the gym arm in arm and looked around in awe. Dick spotted a group of familiar faces at one table, and he led Linda over.

"Wow," Mattie said as Dick and Linda approached. "You guys look great!" She motioned to Andy, and the two got up from their chairs and motioned for Linda to join them; the girls headed over to the punch bowl, leaving the four boys at the table.

"So," Andy asked as they each got a glass of punch, "aren't you glad you came?"

"Honestly, yes," Linda replied before taking a sip. "I thought it would be weird, but…Dick's been really nice."

"'Nice' is opening doors and pulling your seat back," Mattie replied. "Dick has been bending over backwards this week for you," she grinned, "especially on Wednesday." She was referring to Disney Day, when people dressed up as their favorite Disney character. Linda has chosen to go as Rapunzel—complete with a braided wig and flowers. Dick had shown up, dressed as Flynn, and presented Linda with a stuffed Pascal doll and a gold day lily (which looked very much like the sun flower from the movie)

"Trust us," Andy added, "Dick doesn't act this way around **anyone** unless he **really** likes them." She glanced over Linda's shoulder and grinned. "Speaking of which…." The girls looked over Dick approached them.

"Ladies, may I pry Linda away from you for a dance?" Dick asked, smiling, before glancing at Linda.

"Sure," Linda replied, returning the smile. She handed Mattie her cup and took Dick's hand, letting him lead her out to the dance floor as Bad English's "When I See You Smile" started playing. Dick put one arm around Linda's waist, while using his free hand to hold hers; Linda placed her free hand on Dick's shoulder.

As the couple swayed softly in time to the music, smiling at each other, Linda found her thoughts drifting back to two months ago, when she had learned how to dance with Jimmy. Like she had felt that night, Linda was quickly hoping that this night would be just as special.

* * *

Linda and her friends spent the following couple of hours having one of the best times of the year; they divided their time between hanging out at their table, dancing on the floor, mingling with other students, and posing for pictures.

At around eleven, the winners of the Homecoming Court were announced: the captain of the football team (Linda didn't recognize him at all) and head cheerleader—who happened to be Cecilia Brighten—were crowned King and Queen, and then the rest of the court were announced: Prince and Princess for the juniors, Duke and Duchess for the sophomores, and Lord and Lady for the freshmen; Gar Logan and Linda were crowned Duke and Duchess; after all winners received their crowns and sashes and had their photos taken, they took to the floor for their dance as Eva Cassidy's "Time After Time" played.

"…and that's how I wound up with a watermelon on my head," Gar replied softly as they danced slowly across the floor.

"Why would you do that?" Linda asked, smiling, trying not to laugh.

Gar shrugged. "Sometimes, you just gotta do stuff and not worry about what others think."

"Which is why you're wearing a lime green suit and shoes, huh?" Linda asked, smirking at his attire.

"What are you talking about?" Gar asked, pretending to be insulted. "I make this look **good**." Linda chuckled, and Gar sighed. "But seriously, look at the two of us: we both entered an art contest against Barbie Girl over there," he nodded briefly at Cecilia as she danced with her 'king' (who reminded Linda of a creepy life-sized Ken doll, right down to his glaring white teeth), "and **you** literally drew circles around her; you're a hero."

"I just drew a picture," Linda said. "I doubt that makes me a hero."

"You stood up to her," Gar pointed out. "Contrary to what you might think, most students around here don't like Cecila—that's why they voted for us."

"And if people really didn't agree with her," Linda replied, a little annoyed, "then they could have voted for someone else as Homecoming Queen."

Gar nodded in agreement, but he also shrugged as if to say 'baby steps.' He decided to change the subject. "So, Linda Kent," he said, grinning, "you've just been elected Homecoming Duchess. What are you going to do next?"

"I'm dancing with you," Linda said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Gar groaned as he leaned his head back a little, sighing. "You're killing me, Kent," he said.

"Sorry," Linda replied, smiling, realizing she had missed some kind of joke. The song ended and Linda kissed Gar's cheek before leaving him and heading back to her friends. As she passed a group of jocks, including Darrien Bounder, she overheard them talking and chuckling.

"Man, it's been over twelve hours."

"You think he's still conscious?"

"Maybe we should go check on him?"

"He's fine. No one's ever died from being Scarecrow."

Linda stopped when she heard that name. She had only recently learned about that tradition, but she knew enough about it to know that it had been officially banned years ago. She was tempted to go talk to the jocks, but she knew they'd blow her off, so she hurried over to her friends.

"Dick, can I talk to you for a second?" she asked seriously.

"Sure," Dick replied, concerned. He and Linda headed over to one side of the gym, near some bleachers. "What's wrong?"

"I overheard some of the jocks talking about the Scarecrow tradition," Linda answered. "They were talking about checking on someone to see if he was still conscious."

"Linda, that's ridiculous," Dick said. "It was stopped years ago."

"I know what I heard, Dick," Linda replied. "Look, I'm gonna at least go check it out. You wanna join me?"

Dick opened his mouth to protest, but he knew Linda well enough to know he couldn't talk her out of going—and if he refused, she'd still try to go out on her own. The teen could only imagine the outcome of trying to explain to Linda's father why his daughter was trekking around in the cornfields in the middle of the night—alone or otherwise; he sighed. "Okay, fine, let's go," he said.

Linda smiled gratefully and quickly kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said. She grabbed his hand and all but pulled him toward the entrance; they nearly bumped into Gar as he headed toward the punch bowl.

"Ooh, excuse me, sorry," Gar said; he furrowed his eyebrows. "You guys leaving already?"

"Kinda," Linda replied. "See you later, Gar." She waved briefly and pulled Dick with her out of the gym, leaving a very confused Gar staring at them.

(End of Chapter 3)


	4. Chapter 4

The moon shown brightly down from a clear sky, but it might as well have been pitch black as Linda and Dick carefully made their way between two rows of corn in Riley's Field; Dick had parked just outside the road leading to the now deserted LuthorCorp fertilizer plant.

"Linda, are you sure you heard those guys correctly?" Dick asked as he pushed back another large stalk and trudged behind Linda.

"Yes," Linda replied firmly as she trudged through the soft earth, wobbly occasionally. After her third stumble, she growled and removed her heels. "There." She continued confidently in her bare feet. After a few moments, she heard a soft sound and stopped suddenly, tilting her head.

"What is it?" Dick asked.

"Not sure," Linda replied, wishing she had super hearing; she squinted slightly, switching to her X-ray vision and slowly looked around. After a few seconds, she spotted a skeleton suspended off the ground about a quarter of a mile away; she quickly switched back to regular vision. "There." She hurried through the corn, with Dick following her; they both came to a clearing in the field and stopped short, staring.

"Holy," Dick said slowly, stunned.

Strung up on a makeshift wooden cross was the unfortunate student Linda had overheard the jocks talking about at the dance. Linda didn't know him personally, but she knew he was a freshman. He had been stripped down to his underwear, and he hung limply, unconscious; a large, red S was painted across his chest. His brown hair was mussed up, and Linda could see he was pale and shivering.

Linda and Dick quickly hurried over to the back and saw where the knots were. Linda knew her heat vision would have clearing cut through the ropes, but she couldn't risk it around Dick, so she reached up; but she was too short.

"Here, I got it," Dick said as he easily reached one of the lower knots and tugged and pulled; it didn't budge. Dick growled in frustration as he lowered his hands. "We're going to need a knife or something sharp."

"Do you have anything in your car?" Linda asked. She knew her telekinesis could get the binds loose, but she couldn't focus that precisely with Dick there.

"Yes, because having a knife in my car wouldn't look suspicious," Dick replied, slightly sarcastic.

"Sorry," Linda replied a little sarcastic herself. She glanced up at the knots, thinking. "Why don't you go back to town and get Sheriff Ross? I'll stay here."

"First, I have a phone," Dick replied, pulling his cellphone from his jacket pocket, "and second, do you have any idea what your father would do to me if I left you alone in the middle of a cornfield at night?"

Linda opened her mouth, but she couldn't argue with him; she growled a little and sighed. "Fine," she said, folding her arms, "we'll just wait while—" She suddenly felt something brush against her bare feet; she looked down in time to see a large brown rat scurry past her on the ground and up the vertical beam of the cross to the left side of the horizontal beam—and start gnawing through the ropes.

"Is that rat doing what I think it's doing?" Dick asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yep," Linda replied, slightly smiling. The two watched the rat quickly nibble through the thick ropes, freeing the student's left arm. Dick quickly hurried around as the rat scurried to the other side of the cross and repeated the process. In less than a minute, the student's other arm was free; he fell limply to the ground, but Dick managed to catch him; he quickly checked the unconscious student over.

"He's unconscious," Dick said, "but he's still breathing, so I don't think it's too bad." He looked up toward Linda, and his eyes widened; Linda stood next to the cross—holding the rat in her free hand and leaning her face close, speaking softly to it. "What the hell are you doing, Linda?! Get that thing away from your face! You don't know where it's been—it could have rabies!" To his shock, the rat turned around in Linda's hand, staring right at Dick and squeaked loudly at him, puffing up.

"I think **you** just got cussed out by a rat," Linda replied, trying not to smile too much. She dropped her heels and ran her free hand down the back of the rat, and its fur slowly returned to normal.

"Whatever," Dick said, shifting as he held the student in his arms. "Now, put that thing down and let's go."

"I'm bringing it with us," Linda replied as she walked around. "I know Streaky usually hunts rats on the farm, but I think I can persuade my parents to let me keep this one—it's a hero." The rat suddenly squeaked loudly and jumped out of Linda's hands; it scurried away into the cornfield and disappeared. "Nevermind." Linda picked up her shoes before approaching Dick. "You want some help?"

"I got him," Dick replied harshly as he turned around and headed back toward the car. "Let's go."

Linda stopped in her tracks, stunned, but she wordlessly followed him out of the clearing.

* * *

Jonathan was pacing the kitchen floor, occasionally staring at the wall clock. It was eleven forty-five, fifteen minutes past Linda's curfew. Martha leaned against the island, watching her husband, while Krypto and Streaky sat on the stairs, watching the tall man pace, wondering what was going on.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Jonathan said, his voice low with edge.

"Jonathan, don't you think you're overreacting?" Martha asked. "She's only fifteen minutes late."

"Martha, we set down a rule," Jonathan replied. "Fifteen minutes late is fifteen minutes late."

"I know, Jonathan, and I can understand worrying about her, but you don't have to pace the length of the kitchen; you're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Jonathan stopped and sighed. "She's never been late for anything," he said softly. "Not unless something was wrong." Both parents looked over as the phone rang, but Martha was closer, and she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Kent, it's Pete."

"Hi, Pete," Martha replied. "Is everything okay?"

"For me, yeah," Pete answered. "I just thought you guys might be worried about Linda being late."

"How did you know she was late, Pete?" Jonathan looked over, concerned.

"Well, she told me her curfew was eleven-thirty," Pete replied. "She's here with me right now, so don't worry."

"Where are you, Pete?" she asked cautiously.

"Emergency wing at the Smallville Medical Center."

(End of Chapter 4)


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan and Martha hurried down the main hall of the hospital as they made their way to the emergency wing, trying their best not to think about why Linda had ended up at the hospital in the first place; they knew Pete would have said something if Linda had been hurt in any way, but they still couldn't help worrying a little. They turned the corner and spotted Pete talking with two unfamiliar adults; he glanced over and saw them approach, and he excused himself while the couple headed down the hall and disappeared into a nearby room.

"Where's Linda?" Jonathan asked as Pete approached. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Pete reassured them. "She's not hurt, don't worry."

"Then why is she here?" Jonathan asked. "Did something happen at the dance?"

"Not really," Pete answered. "Linda overheard some of the seniors talking about checking on the Scarecrow."

"I thought the school banned that years ago," Martha said, "right after you and Clark graduated."

"Yeah, but we all know that's never stopped anyone determined to continue the tradition," Pete replied. "In the three years I've been in office, there's and every year there's always been some kind of rumor or whisper, but it's never panned out—that we know of—until tonight."

"So, Linda overhead the seniors and went to investigate," Jonathan said.

Pete nodded. "Dick Malverne drove her out to Riley Field," he replied. "They found one of the male freshmen—Collin Thomas—strung up in the field and got him down. Linda called me on their way here." He saw the upset expressions on the Kents' faces. "Look, don't be too upset with her; she was just trying to help," he raised an eyebrow, "just like Clark used to."

"That's what worries us," Jonathan replied wryly.

"Where's Linda now?" Martha asked.

"She and Dick and in Collin's room," Pete answered as he nodded in the direction of the room. The Kents looked down as the door opened and both Linda and Dick walked out; they glanced over and saw the adults heading toward them.

"Please don't be mad," Linda said to her parents quickly as they reached her and Dick.

"We'll discuss that later," Martha replied as she quickly hugged her daughter before glancing between Linda and Dick. "Are you two okay?"

"We're fine," Dick said curtly, "and, I should probably go home before my parents freak out. Goodnight." He nodded politely before excusing himself, heading down the hall.

"What was that about?" Martha asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I…don't know," Linda replied slowly, trying not to look upset. "He's been acting like that since we left Riley Field." She sighed, deciding there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. "So, how mad are you?"

"How about you tell us what happened first," Jonathan replied, "and then we can determine that?"

"Well, I overheard some of the seniors talking about checking on the Scarecrow," Linda explained, "and I didn't want to just walk out and have everyone wonder where I was, because I knew you'd be upset if I did that, so I asked Dick to come with me."

"So, instead of informing an adult," Jonathan replied, folding his arms, "you two decided to investigate it on your own?"

"Because I wasn't sure any adult would believe me," Linda replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "I may have friends and everything, but I'm still the new kid around here; which adults in this town would've actually believed me instead of going 'now, don't you worry, I'm sure it was all just talk'?"

"How about your mother and me," Jonathan suggested, "or Pete?"

Linda opened her mouth to protest, but she knew she couldn't come up with any kind of argument. "Sorry," she said, her cheeks slowly growing red.

"Just remember that in the future, please?" Martha asked, gently as she put an arm around her shoulders. Linda nodded.

"And, Linda?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes?" Linda asked.

The farmer smiled a little. "We're very proud of you for helping Collin." Linda's expression visibly brightened. "Do you know how he's doing?"

"Well, considering he'd been stripped to his underwear," Linda replied, her expression darkening a little, "with a big S painted on his chest, and then strung up like a scarecrow for twelve hours, he's doing okay. He's still unconscious, but aside from a little dehydration, he's uninjured." She shrugged. "At least I can tell Pete who to arrest."

"Linda, just because you heard some guys talking about it doesn't mean Pete can just arrest them," Martha said.

"No, I mean I scanned Collin's mind on the way from Riley Field," Linda explained, quickly adding, "and Dick didn't see anything; I was in the back while Dick drove, and Collin was laying across the backseat with his head in my lap. I just did a quick visual scan, that's all." She sighed. "Look, I know you said to do it only in an emergency, but I figured this counted as one."

"Did you see anything?" Jonathan asked.

"I saw some faces," Linda replied. "Five total; I recognized them from the group of seniors I overheard talking at the dance."

"Unfortunately, it won't do any good," Jonathan said. "Pete can't arrest them without revealing your abilities," Linda looked like she was going to say something, but Jonathan held up his hand, "and we're not going to do that, Linda."

"What if I got them to confess?" Linda asked hopefully.

"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no," Jonathan replied.

"Why not?" Linda asked, frowning.

"Because you are fifteen years old," Joanthan answered firmly, trying not to get angry. "Regardless of what you can do, Linda, you don't always have to get involved. This is a matter the police can handle on their own."

"And if that was the case," Linda replied, "then Collin would probably still be strung up in a cornfield."

"Young lady, I said I don't want you involved," Jonathan said, his tone growing more angry.

"Why?" Linda demanded.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt!" Jonathan blurted out before he could stop himself.

Linda's expression softened a little. "This is about when Clark was the Scarecrow, isn't it?" Jonathan didn't answer, but he didn't have to; Linda sighed. "Dad, I'll be fine; I doubt any of them have a kryptonite necklace." Jonathan gave her a look, but Linda knew he wasn't angry. "What if Collin could identify them?"

"That'll be difficult to prove," Martha spoke up. "It'll be his word against theirs." Linda looked troubled, and Martha could understand both sides of this issue: she didn't want Linda to risk getting hurt any more than Jonathan did, but she also knew Linda wouldn't just drop the matter either; the best thing to do was to leave it alone for the time being. "Look, why don't we go home? It's late, and we have to get ready for the farmer's market." Jonathan and Linda both nodded, and the trio made their way down the hall.

* * *

"Linda, we leave in fifteen minutes!"

Linda groaned as she buried her head under her pillows; the sun shone brightly, even through the curtained window, but the teenager silently cursed its existence. While last night with her parents hadn't ended on a sour note, Linda still felt they were being unreasonable. She had spent the rest of the night trying to come up with reasons she believed would be good enough to convince her parents to let her help with the investigation; she hadn't gotten much sleep, so she was extremely tired.

"Be right there," she mumbled as she turned around and threw her comforter over her head. She had just settled in and was drifting off to sleep when the covers were yanked off of her; a second later she was launched into the air. She shrieked loudly as she tumbled down and suddenly stopped; she looked around, wide eyed, and found herself looking into the eyes of her grinning cousin.

"Good morning, sunshine," Clark replied as he held his baby cousin in his arms.

"Are you freneza?!" Linda gasped as her heart pounded in her chest.

"Probably," Clark answered, still smiling as he set her on the floor, "but we're leaving soon, and you need to get dressed." He kissed her nose. "Oh, and you and I need to talk later." He left the room, closing the door behind him. Linda sighed and looked down at Krypto and Streaky as they lay sprawled on their blankets in the corner, eyes closed.

"You could have warned me he was coming," she said. She received two lazy yawns in return. She smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes briefly before she headed out of the room to get washed up.

(End of Chapter 5)


	6. Chapter 6

The Farmer's Market bustled with activity when the Kent's truck pulled into the parking lot, and the four Kents exited; they grabbed baskets of different fruits, Linda's hand-painted signs, and other equipment before heading to their spot. Jonathan and Clark went about setting up their stand while Linda and Martha set out their produce.

Linda was in the middle of unloading the apples when she felt a gentle nudge from behind. She turned around and saw Clark holding one of the 'Kent Organic Produce' signs against a wooden post with left hand; he held a nail in his other hand, and motioned her over; Linda set her basket aside and walked over. Clark used his free hand to guide her in front of him so she faced the pole.

"Okay," he said softly as he held the nail out to her, "all you do is take the nail and drive it in the center of the sign near the top." He handed the nail to his cousin, who looked a little reluctant as she took it and stared at the sign. He saw her hesitation, and he put his hand on her shoulder, smiling. "You got this, Short Stack."

Linda felt a little more at ease, and she carefully positioned the nail in its correct position. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she used her thumb and easily drove the nail into the wood. She glanced over her shoulder at her cousin, who smiled proudly.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," he replied, and Linda's grin widened.

"Couldn't agree more," Jonathan said, smiling as he and Martha came over. "The sign looks great, sweetie."

"Thanks," Linda replied sincerely, rocking on her feet as she glanced around at the rest of the market. It wasn't like she didn't want to be around her parents; she simply wanted to explore.

Martha recognized that fidgety and smiled. "Clark, if you and Linda want to look around, your father and I can handle things here," she said.

"Thanks, Mom," Clark said before he and Linda headed off into the crowd.

Martha glanced at her husband and saw his dubious expression. "What?" she asked.

"Why do I get the feeling Linda hasn't given up trying to convince us to let her help?" Jonathan asked.

"Because she's a headstrong, stubborn teenager," Martha replied, smiling a little, "just like her cousin and father used to be." She rubbed his arm reassuringly, and he smiled in response.

* * *

Clark had bought Linda a bag of popcorn from a vendor; as they walked around the market, Linda stuffed popped kernels into her mouth and looked around at the different sights.

"So, Mom and Dad told me about your little adventure last night," Clark said.

Linda groaned, her cheeks puffed out, and she quickly swallowed. "Is this going to be a 'don't get involved' lecture?" she asked, a little annoyed.

"I'm hoping it won't be," Clark replied, "because they're right."

"Clark, I know who did it," Linda said, slightly frustrated, "and I'm pretty sure I could get them to confess—without blowing my cover." She looked annoyed as she stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth. "I would've thought all three of you would be on my side about this."

"Now, hold on," Clark said, stopping. "Just because Mom, Dad, and I don't want you to get hurt, it doesn't mean we're not on your side." He raised an eyebrow. "And, believe me, I'm more on your side than you might think."

"So, you'll help me out?" Linda asked, hopefully. Clark folded his arms, and Linda sighed. "Okay, okay." She slowly smiled slyly. "You gonna teach me how to stack their vehicles?"

"You know, I think I'm going to stop telling you stories about my high school days," Clark replied, smiling as he tweaked her nose. "Now, why don't we push that aside and talk about other things?"

"Like?" Linda asked.

"Like how beautiful you looked in your dress last night," Clark replied.

"You really think so?" Linda asked.

Clark nodded. "Mr. White said it was nice to see you dressed in something other than mud or denim."

Linda furrowed her eyebrows then she remembered. "Oh, that's right," she said, "you went to that football game with him."

"And Jimmy," Clark added.

"Oh?" Linda asked casually. "What did he think?"

"Well, he thought the Sharks' defense stunk," Clark replied, "and the quarterback needs to go back to basic training." Linda gave him a look, and Clark smiled. "Oh, you mean about your dress." Linda nodded, and Clark shrugged, his smile fading. "He didn't say."

A look of hurt flashed briefly across Linda's eyes. "Oh," she said softly. She cleared her throat as she rummaged around in her popcorn bag. "How's he doing?"

"I thought you two were Skyp-ing almost every night," Clark said.

"We have been," Linda replied, "and he said he'd be free every night this week so we could talk every night and I could show him my costume pictures, but he never came on once, and he never emailed me or anything to let me know." She looked up at Clark, confused. "Is he mad at me, too?"

Clark felt his chest tighten a little as he heard the sadness in his cousin's voice. "'Too'?" he asked cautiously.

Linda nodded. "Yeah, for some reason," she said, "Dick is mad at me," she shrugged, "so I guess Jimmy must be as well."

"I don't think he's mad at you," Clark replied as he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Can we change the subject?" Linda asked suddenly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Sure," Clark answered slowly, a little confused.

"Thanks," Linda replied. She looked over and spotted Gar standing at a nearby vendor, staring at a display of unusual jewelry. Relieved to see a friend, she walked over, smiling. "Hey, Gar."

Gar stiffened when he heard her voice, but he slowly turned to face her. His cheeks were bright red as he forcefully smiled at her. "Uh…hi, Linda," he said, chuckling nervously, trying to sound casual. "What, uh, what brings you out here?"

"My parents are selling their crops," Linda replied, smiling.

"So, Linda, you gonna to introduce me?" Clark asked as he approached the teens.

"Gar, this is my cousin, Clark Kent," Linda replied. "Clark, this is a friend of mine—and fellow art student—Garfield Logan, but everyone calls him Gar."

"Nice to meet you," Clark said, nodding at the teen. Gar nodded and gave a little wave but didn't say anything.

"So, whatcha doing?" Linda asked. She noticed he kept glancing back and forth between her and the display, and she furrowed her eyebrows. "You okay, Gar?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Gar replied quickly. "Just fine, just uh…," he nodded at the display, "looking for jewelry for my mom. She likes really unusual things, but I really don't think anything here is really her style, so I'm going to go now; see you on Monday." He quickly walked away, leaving Linda and Clark a little dumbfounded.

"It's me," Linda said bluntly. She saw Clark glance at her questioningly, and she sighed. "First Jimmy, then Dick, and now Gar," she shook her head, "it's like the only one who wants to be around me lately is a rat." Clark opened his mouth, but Linda blinked back tears as she handed Clark her bag of popcorn. "I need to go." She hurried away from her cousin, dodging people; Clark jogged after her.

"Linda, wait," he said, "let's talk about this."

"Clark, please, just leave me alone," Linda replied softly, not stopping.

"I'm not going to let you bolt out of here without knowing where you're going," Clark said as the walked cut across the parking lot and behind a small shack.

"The cave," Linda replied. "I'll work on disabling part of the system; right now, I could use the distraction."

"Linda, wait," Clark said, grabbing her arm gently, "you're not going into the cave like this."

"Clark, please, just leave me alone," Linda said, jerking free from his grip a split second before blurring off.

Clark sighed. "Like I won't be able to catch up to you," he muttered. He pushed forward, but suddenly found himself unable to move more than a few inches; he turned around in place, but was met with the same resistance. No matter how much he pushed and shoved, he couldn't break through the invisible wall; he sighed in frustration as the realization hit him. "Not cool, Linda."

(End of Chapter 6)


	7. Chapter 7

A large, green amoeboid creature with four pink tentacles zoomed toward Linda as she stood in front of the octagonal keyslot. Linda frowned and raised her glasses; her eyes glowed deep orange before two heat beams shot out at full force. They blasted the creature, and it made an ear-piercing screech as it sizzled and smoked; in a few seconds, the creature disintegrated, leaving nothing but a singed smell in the air as evidence of its existence.

Linda let her breath out as she lowered her glasses and turned back to the keyslot; the symbols on her key glowed in a bright blue color, while the four rings of symbols surrounding the slot circled in alternating directions. The teenager quickly scanned the symbols and pressed one in each of the rings; the rings stopped moving, and the chosen symbols glowed in the same bright blue as the ones on her key. After a few seconds, the symbols grew dark, and the key flew from the slot; Linda deftly caught in and put it in her jeans pocket.

"Linda?"

Linda turned toward the entrance cave, recognizing the voice; she swallowed nervously, and part of her wanted to stay hidden, but she knew she wouldn't be able to stay in there forever. "In here, Clark!" she called out reluctantly.

"Why don't you come out here?" he replied back to her.

Linda sensed the apprehension in his voice and sighed. "It's safe to come in," she replied. No response. "Trust me." She stayed where she was, waiting, her heart pounding; a few seconds later, she tensed as she saw Clark slowly walk in—followed by their parents. Her eyes widened slightly, and her heart jumped into her throat as her stomach knotted; she knew she was in **major** trouble.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I know what I did was wrong, but I wasn't trying to hurt Clark; I just wanted to be alone for a while." She blinked back the tears that started forming in her eyes. "Please don't be mad."

"Linda, it's okay," Martha said gently, "we're not mad."

Linda furrowed her eyebrows. "You're not?" she asked, confused. She glanced between the three faces, and she was surprised to see all of them looking at her with concern—even Jonathan.

"No, we're not," Jonathan said sincerely. "We just want to know that you're okay."

Linda shrugged. "I'm fine," she replied halfheartedly, "I guess."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Martha asked.

"Perhaps somewhere other than here?" Jonathan suggested, glancing around uncertainly.

"You don't have to worry about another cave in," Linda said. "I was able to disable that particular program, so that shouldn't be a problem anymore."

"So, why does it smell like something burned in here?" Clark asked.

"That would be because of the shoggoth," Linda answered, "and the ganzaga lizard, a dramonicus, and a hunmoro."

"Something tells me those aren't nice things," Martha said slowly.

"They were all lethal beasts on Krypton," Linda explained, "but I was able to incinerate them as soon as they appeared; the smell should dissipate shortly." She opened her mouth, then paused, trying to choose her next words carefully. "Do you guys remember when I said the security measures were unusual for Kryptonian security?" The adults nodded. "Well, something else struck me as very odd." She motioned for them to follower her to the far end of the cave; she nodded at the symbol on the wall that Darrien had touched to trigger the cave in. "This symbol has two meanings in Kryptonese: 'crusade' and 'stronghold,' depending on the context."

"Is that significant?" Jonathan asked.

"Could be," Linda answered. "Seeing how this cave really isn't a cave—and the whole system kicked in when Darrien touched the symbol—it's rather strange to have it mean 'crusade,' so it has to translate into 'stronghold,'" she stared at the symbol, "and that means there's something behind this wall."

"Are you sure?" Clark asked, tilting his head.

"Pretty sure," Linda answered. "Can't see through the walls to be certain, but this symbol being here means there's something here that is not meant for humans to find." She took a deep breath. "Look, figuring this out is going to take a long time, and I've disabled enough for the day; can we go home?"

"Sure," Jonathan replied, "and we can have a little talk about the proper use of one's powers." He raised his eyebrows, giving her a gentle look.

"I thought you said you weren't mad," Linda said, a little hurt.

"We're not mad," Martha reassured her as she walked over and put her arms around her daughter's shoulders, "but we still need to talk about what you did, okay?" Linda nodded, and Martha leaned over slightly. "And after that, you and I can talk privately about some other things if you want." Linda looked a little grateful, and Martha smiled; she led her daughter toward the cave entrance, with Jonathan and Clark following behind.

"So, Linda," Clark said, "can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Clark," Linda replied.

"What rat were you talking about?"

* * *

The rest of the weekend went by without incident, and Monday morning came. The Kents went about their schedules, and soon Linda was off to school. She made her way down the hall, noticing that some of the students were glancing at her and whispering to others; Linda wished she had super-hearing, but she quickly pushed that from her mind as she stopped just outside the open door of the Torch. Inside, Cutter and Wally were working on their computers; she knocked a couple of times, and the boys looked up.

"Can I come in?" Linda asked.

"How many times do we have to say 'you don't have to knock'?" Wally asked as they got up.

"Sorry," Linda replied as she walked in.

"So, you wanna tell us what's going on?" Cutter asked, tilting his head, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" Linda asked, confused.

"Well, rumor has it that you and Dick had a pretty interesting 'after party' Friday night," Cutter replied.

"Well, I wouldn't call finding an unconscious freshman strung up in a cornfield a party," Linda replied, a little more curtly than she intended. She glanced at her friends and sighed. "Sorry, guys."

"Forget it," Wally said. "We kinda know Dick is avoiding you."

"How?" Linda asked defensively, trying not to feel embarrassed.

"Well, Mattie's mom was one of the nurses on duty at Smallville Medical when you brought Collin Thomas in," Cutter answered, "so Mattie called Dick to find out what had happened; he got defensive when she asked about you. So, she called Andy and asked **her** to talk to Dick, but he refused to say anything to her either, so they called us to see if we knew anything."

"Which we didn't," Wally added.

"Well, nice to know he's talking to everyone **but** me," Linda replied sarcastically.

"So, you don't know why he's not talking to you?" Cutter asked.

"Not a clue," Linda replied. She sighed, shaking her head. "It was like he became a completely different person in that field."

"Which is not like him at all," Cutter said.

"Maybe not," Linda replied, "but I don't know if that's something I can deal with—especially if he doesn't want to be around me." She saw the expressions on her friends' faces as they glanced at each other. "Guys, please don't say anything, okay?"

"You got it," Wally answered.

"Thanks," Linda said sincerely. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So, changing subjects to why I'm actually here, could you guys help me with something?"

"Sure," Cutter answered, "what's up?"

Linda put her backpack on one of the tables and unzipped it, pulling out five rolled up papers. She handed them to Cutter and Wally, who unrolled them; they saw penciled sketches of five members of the football team—the ones Linda had overheard talking about the Scarecrow Friday night.

"Why do you have sketches of five members of our varsity football team?" Wally asked.

"They're the guys who strung up our Scarecrow in Riley Field," Linda replied.

"How do you know that?" Wally asked. "Last we heard, Collin was still unconscious."

"Anonymous source," Linda answered casually.

"Do the police know about this?" Cutter asked.

"No," Linda replied quickly. "The source came to me, under explicit orders not to be named, and that the police wouldn't get involved." Wally and Cutter raised their eyebrows at her, and Linda sighed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, okay, my family doesn't want me to get involved, and I understand why, but I just can't stand by and do nothing."

"And you can't go to Sheriff Ross," Cutter said, "because he'll tell your folks."

"Bingo," Linda replied, nodding

"So, how can we help?" Cutter asked. "Unless Collin identifies them—which is unlikely to happen—there's not much we can do."

"Unless they confess," Linda added. She ignored the little voice in her head (which sounded exactly like her cousin) telling her that this was a bad idea.

"You have an idea," Wally said, recognizing that little glimmer in Linda's eyes.

"Yep," Linda replied smugly. "You guys wanna help?"

"Hell yeah," Wally said, grinning.

"Definitely," Cutter added. "What do you have in mind?"

(End of Chapter 7)


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the morning went of without any major hitches, despite the fact that Dick was still avoiding Linda (which made biology awkward, since they were lab partners); even Gar didn't want to interact with her in art class, burying himself in his sculpture while Linda worked on hers; he wouldn't even glance at her. By the time class had finished, Linda's sculpture was starting to take shape, but she really wanted to continue; Mrs. Patterson gave her permission to stay through lunch, allowing the teenager to work in complete silence.

Linda had to admit she really enjoyed working when no one else was around; it gave her a chance to take a break from reality and live in her own world. She smiled a little and softly hummed Owl City's 'Real World' while she worked the clay between her fingers, and her thoughts drifted back to that night she danced with Jimmy—but she quickly pushed that image from her mind.

"Am I interrupting?"

Linda looked up and saw Darrien Bounder standing just inside the doors. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his letterman jacket as he leaned against the doorframe; he grinned at her, and she smiled back.

"Hi," Linda replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I didn't see you at in the lunch room," Darrien shrugged as he walked over, "so I was just wondered where you were."

"Just working on a sculpture," Linda replied, going back to her work.

"Cool," Darrien replied, staring at the large lump of clay. He thought he could make out what appeared to be a large pair of wings made of flames; on the other side it almost had the shape of a bird's head with a curved, hooked beak. "Whoa, are you making a phoenix?"

"Huh?" Linda asked, looking up, eyebrows furrowed.

"It looks like a phoenix," Darrien replied. "Mythical bird associated with the sun." Linda stared at him blankly. "You know, bird sets itself on fire and is born again from its own ashes—like in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets."

Linda slowly shook her head. "Haven't seen it," she said as she stared back at her sculpture. It was actually supposed to be Flamebird—her favorite Kryptonian animal. She had never seen one in person, but the stories that Rok-Var had told her had been so vivid in detail that Linda had been able to that was actually picture it in her mind. Still, she knew she couldn't tell that to anyone outside her immediate family; the phoenix would have to do. "You know, now that you mention it, I guess it does resemble a phoenix." She made a mental note to read up on it so she would have a plausible reason for sculpting it in the first place.

"Well, it's really good," Darrien said.

"Thanks," Linda replied. She glanced up and saw Darrien looking right at her, smiling, making her feel a little self-conscious. "What?"

"Can I do something I've been wanting to do for a while?" Darrien asked. Without giving Linda a chance to answer, he leaned over and kissed her; it wasn't passionate, just sweet and simple, but Linda still gave a muffled squeak in surprise. When Darrien pulled back, Linda appeared dazed.

"Look, I know this is totally out of the blue," Darrien said, "but I've been wanting to do that since the day of the cave-in."

"Why?" Linda asked softly. "I'm not exactly the best company right now."

"You kidding, right?" Darrien said, amused. "You're smart, funny, beautiful, and incredibly talented. What guy wouldn't want to be around you?"

 _At least three that I know of_ , Linda thought wryly.

"Look, I know this is crazy," Darrien continued, "but could take you out for dinner or a movie or something?"

"Darrien, I'm really flattered," Linda said as she quickly got up to wash her hands, her cheeks a bright red, "but I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" Darrien asked, following her, stopping right behind her. "Is it because you're seeing Malverne?"

"Yes," Linda replied as she quickly turned around, stopping short when she saw how close he was to her; only a few millimeters between them, giving her a chance to see for the first time how…attractive he was. "I-I-I mean, no…I mean, I-I…don't know." Her heart pounded in her chest and Darrien leaned over and kissed her again; Linda stiffened a little as he put his hands on her shoulders, but she slowly relaxed as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

Darrien suddenly yelped as he was yanked backward, and Linda opened her eyes in time to see Dick—his expression nothing but pure anger—slam his clenched fist into Darrien's face. The senior stumbled back violently—falling right into Linda's sculpture; it crashed to the floor, along with the stand and Linda's supplies; details in the soft clay were distorted and mushed from the impact, and Darrien clutched his left eye in pain as he groaned.

"I told you to leave her alone," Dick said angrily. He turned to face Linda, his expression softening, but she brushed by him and hurried over to Darrien, kneeling beside him.

"You okay?" she asked as he slowly sat up.

"Yeah, I'll live," Darrien replied softly, gently rubbing his eye. "Might have a black eye, though."

Linda jerked her head toward Dick, and he saw how angry she appeared. "What the—"

"What is going on here?"

All three teens looked over to see Mrs. Patterson hurry in the room; she stopped when she saw Linda and Darrien on the floor, next to the ruined sculpture, scattered supplies, and Dick standing nearby.

"I asked you guys a question," Mrs. Patterson said firmly. "What is going on?"

"I came here to see what Linda was up to," Darrien said as he and Linda got to their feet. "We were talking and minding our own business when Malverne," he glared at Dick, "suddenly jumps me and hits me for no reason."

"Is this true?" Mrs. Patterson demanded as she turned at Dick.

Dick opened his mouth to defend himself, but he decided against it; he simply nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Stay here, all three of you," Mrs. Patterson ordered before she headed back into her office, leaving the three teens alone.

"What the **hell** is the matter with you?" Linda demanded as she glared at Dick.

"I was just trying to protect you," Dick replied.

Linda stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?!" she asked, her voice raising an octave, her eyes daggers. "You don't talk to me for days for whatever reason, and then you come in here and go ballistic on Darrien for, what, kissing me?!" She glanced down at the shapeless lump of clay, and she blinked back tears, willing herself not to cry. "Do you know how long I've been working on this?"

"Linda, I'm sorry," Dick said sincerely, "I didn't mean—"

"Just stop it," Linda interrupted angrily. "I don't want to hear it."

"Look, I'm trying to apologize," Dick replied, "about everything."

"I said I don't want to hear it," Linda repeated, glaring at him. "You don't want to be around me, then that's perfectly fine by me, because I don't ever want to talk to you again." She grabbed her backpack from a side table and stormed out of the room.

"Nice going, Casanova," Darrien replied as he smirked, his eye a deep purple. "Oh, and thanks for your help; I shouldn't have any problem getting to know her better now." He saw Dick glaring at him, his fists clenching at his sides, but Darrien didn't waiver. "Go for it, Malverne; I'm sure the teacher'll believe I goaded you."

"If you hurt her," Dick threatened, his teeth clenched, "I swear you'll pay for it."

Darrien shrugged, as if to say 'whatever,' then he put on his best painful expression and clutched his eye as Mrs. Patterson came out of her office; she was still fuming as she marched over.

"Alright, you two," she said, "Principal Turner would like to see both of you." She glanced around. "Where's Linda?"

"She left," Darrien replied, his voice low. "She was pretty upset…said she wanted to be left alone."

Mrs. Patterson sighed. "Alright," she said, "I'll talk to her later." She glanced between the two. "Let's go, you two." She followed both teens as they slowly headed out of the art room.

(End of Chapter 8)


	9. Chapter 9

Martha sat at her place at the kitchen table, trying to read a magazine on art crafts, a mug of apple cider cooling in front of her. On her left, Jonathan rested his elbows on the table, sipping slowly from his mug, his expression troubled. Martha glanced over at her husband before setting the magazine aside and putting a hand on her husband's arm. Jonathan glanced over at her before he sighed and put his mug down. The sound of the kitchen door caused them to look over anxiously as they both got to their feet; they saw Superman walk in, looking anxious.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Hostage negotiation took a little longer than I thought, but no one got hurt or killed." He glanced up at the ceiling. "Is she home yet?"

"Not yet," Jonathan said. He saw the relief wash over his son's face before he quickly spun in a tight circle, changing into his work clothes, but he left his glasses in his breast pocket.

"You don't think she'd go to the cave or anything, do you?" Clark asked.

"Tempting, but not today."

Everyone turned and saw Linda standing in the open door frame, her backpack slung over her shoulder; her voice has sounded a little less cheerful than normal, and her expression appeared calm, but the adults could see the mixture of hurt and anger in her eyes. Before anyone could say anything, she took a deep breath and let it out.

"Look," she said, "I already know Mrs. Patterson called you, and you called Clark," she briefly glanced at her cousin, "but I really just want to go to my room and be left alone." She brushed past her family and headed for the stairs.

"You sure you don't want to talk?" Martha asked gently.

Linda stopped halfway up the stairs and turned around. "What's there to talk about?" she asked. "Three guys who I thought were my friends avoid me like the plague for something that is apparently my fault—yet no one has the guts to tell me what I supposedly did—then one of them decides to punch another guy just for kissing me."

"Whoa, what do you mean some guy kissed you?" Clark asked as he glanced at his parents; they hadn't told him **that** particular detail.

Linda chuckled mirthlessly. "Really?" she asked. "After everything that's happened—including my sculpture getting destroyed when Dick punched Darrien—you're asking me about getting kissed?!" She turned and stormed up the stairs; a few seconds later, they heard her bedroom door slam.

"Sorry," Clark said apologetically. "I didn't mean to get her upset."

"We know, Clark," Jonathan reassured him, "and I'm sure she'll see that when she calms down."

"Did you guys know about the kiss?" Clark asked.

"Mrs. Patterson was very vague on the details when she called," Martha replied, "but she suspected **something** had happened. Now we know exactly what that something was."

"Uh, excuse me?"

The Kents turned around to see Gar standing just outside the door, his backpack flung on his shoulders; Clark quickly put his glasses on as Gar shifted on his feet, looking nervous.

"Is, uh, Linda here?" he asked slowly.

"Gar, right?" Clark asked. Gar nodded, and Clark saw his parents' questioning expressions. "Guys, this is Gar Logan; he's a friend of Linda's from art class. Gar, these are my parents."

"Hi," Gar replied, waving a little.

"Is there something we can help you with, Gar?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, I heard Linda had a rough rough day," Gar replied, "and I might have kinda blown her off a little this weekend, so I was wondering if I could talk to her."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Gar," Martha said, "but Linda isn't really in the mood to talk with anyone right now," she smiled a little, "but we'll tell her you stopped by, okay?"

"Okay," Gar said, trying not to sound or look disappointed, "thanks." He nodded politely before turning and heading down the porch stairs.

"He doesn't have a crush on her, too, does he?" Jonathan asked wryly as Martha shut the door.

"Actually, I think they're just friends," Clark said. He glanced at the ceiling as he focused his superhearing; his heart wrenched as he picked up the soft sounds of her sobs. He sighed as he switched back to his normal hearing.

"Look, it's going to be a while before Linda's ready to talk to any of us," Martha said, seeing the helpless expression on Clark's face. "I think it's best if we give her some space right now."

Both Jonathan and Clark reluctantly nodded, and the two men headed out to go start on the chores while Martha decided to get started on dinner a little early.

* * *

Hours later, night had fallen, and Linda still hadn't left her room; she had changed out of her school clothes into a pair of gray sweatpants and a white tanktop, leaving her clothes strewn about her floor. Martha had come by about an hour earlier to see if she wanted to eat, but Linda had refused and was thankful her adoptive mother accepted that. She knew she was going to have to eventually talk to her family about what had happened; she also knew that Clark had just been asking about what had happened earlier, and she would apologize for snapping at him, but she still felt humiliated and.

The young girl had decided to try and distract herself with her homework, so she sat at her desk, her history textbook and her laptop open; she had a paper to write about the events leading up to WWI, but she quickly found it made her more depressed, so she quickly pushed her book aside.

A light _tap tap_ came from her bedroom window, and Linda glanced over. She saw a pair of large, yellow eyes, and she almost screamed, but then she quickly realized it wasn't a person, or even a monster, but a large Great Horned Owl—and it stared right at her; a few seconds later, it tapped softly on the glass once again and waited.

Linda furrowed her eyebrows, not sure if she should do anything, but she finally stood up slowly and tip-toed cautiously over to the window. She carefully unlatched the lock and—holding her breath—pushed the lower frame up; she paused, expecting the owl to be startled and fly off, but it stayed put, staring up at her.

"Hey, fella," Linda said softly, kneeling down until she was eye level with the animal. She had seen several pictures of owls, but they didn't do justice to actually seeing one in real life. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out hunting mice?" The owl hooted softly, shifting on its feet, its talons clicking softly on the shingles.

Linda slowly lifted her hand and hesitated before carefully extending it out the window. The owl backed away quickly, and the teenager froze, not even moving her hand; she and the owl stared at each other, then the owl slowly inched forward. It paused briefly before using its head to nuzzle her hand; the young girl slowly used her fingers to gently scratch its feathers right above its eyes.

"It must be nice being an owl," Linda said softly. "I mean, **you** don't have to worry about your friend blowing you off and then going ballistic, ruining a sculpture that you'd been working on for a long time and can't take home to redo at super-speed because it's an in-class assignment, and you can't reveal yourself because then people would not only know you're an alien but also Superman's cousin, so you're basically going to fail the assignment." The owl just stared at her, almost like he was trying to process everything she had said in that one breath, and Linda suddenly realized she was venting to a wild animal. The notion made her smile and chuckle a little, but it was also cathartic; she continued scratching the animal's head gently. "You know, Clark and my parents would be freaking out if they knew I was talking about my secret with anyone, but I have a feeling you won't be telling anyone, right?" She scratched his head for good measure, and the owl's eyes closed halfway in contentment.

Linda's computer beeped loudly, startling the girl and causing the owl to suddenly fly off, hooting; the young girl sighed, a little annoyed at the disruption, but she quickly shut and locked the window before going over to her desk. She sat down and saw a popup notification from her Skype program: nuttercutter2121 was requesting a video chat. Linda recognized the username and accepted the request. A second later, a video window opened, and Linda saw Cutter sitting at one of the desks in the Torch office.

"Hey, Cutter," Linda said.

"Hey," Cutter replied cautiously. "How you holding up?"

Linda shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess."

"So, I guess you don't want to talk about what happened today, huh?" Cutter asked.

"Not really," Linda replied; she leaned forward, furrowing her eyebrows. "That's not why you called, is it?"

"Of course not," Cutter answered quickly. "Wally and I identified the guys in the sketches you gave us."

"That's great," Linda replied, relieved.

"And we have an idea," Wally added, suddenly leaning in from the side, grinning. "Can you meet us here tomorrow morning at six-thirty?"

(End of Chapter 9)


	10. Chapter 10

Jason Muhyo, Trevor Wayde, Sean Cuuher, Eric Beecher, and Andrew Gaesse were talking as they headed to their lockers the next morning thirty minutes before school started. They stopped at Jason's locker, and waited while he dialed the combination on his lock, and then opened his door. He stopped and tilted his head when he saw a large piece of notebook paper taped to the top shelf of his locker with a simple note on it in red ink: ' _Meet me in the gym. We need to talk._ '

The jocks glanced at each other, curious, before Jason grabbed the note, closed and secured his locker, and the five headed towards the gym. They walked in and saw Linda standing in the center with her back to them. The jocks eyed each other before walking over.

"I see you got my message," Linda said as she turned around.

"And I can see why Darrien's interested," Jason said, smirking a little as he looked her over appreciatively. " **Definitely** prime real estate. So, look, I know there's five of us, but thirty minutes should be plenty of time."

"Excuse me?" Linda asked, raising an eyebrow as she folded her arms.

"Don't worry," Jason reassured her, his voice slick and smooth as he removed his letterman jacket and tossed it aside, still smiling, "we'll be gentle."

Linda glanced around as the others formed a circle around her, then she looked back at Jason in disgust. "So, in light of stringing up an innocent student in Riley Field," she said, "you're all a bunch of disgusting jerks."

Jason stopped and stared at her. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Linda smirked, knowing she had their attention. "Oh, come on, boys," she said as she glanced around, "you don't have to hide it from me. I know all five of you strung up Collin Thomas in Riley Field Friday after school."

Jason walked up to her, easily towering over her, his expression growing dark. "Look, hot as you are, you might want to tread real carefully, Kent," he growled. "People don't take too kindly to false accusations around here."

"Well, good news is that these accusations aren't false," Linda replied, undaunted. "I talked with a witness who says they saw all five you grab Collin in the student parking lot and drag him to your truck; they're willing to talk to Sheriff Ross about it, but they want to give you guys the chance to confess first."

"Look, I don't know how you found out," Jason said, his voice low and threatening, "but you're going to seriously regret it." He nodded at the two standing behind Linda, and they grabbed her arms roughly, and Linda fought the urge to toss them aside like ragdolls. "And don't expect us to be gentle about it, either."

"Let her go!"

Everyone looked over at the bleachers and saw Cutter and Wally emerged from behind the bleachers, both looking threatening; Wally had his cellphone in hand, and everyone could tell by how he held it that they had been recording the entire encounter.

"Linda, you okay?" Cutter asked, concerned.

Linda glanced at the jocks, seeing their deer-in-the-headlights expressions; she smirked a little as she easily shrugged free from the grips of the two guys holding her. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said as she walked over to her friends. "You get it all?"

"Every single disgusting word," Wally said as he tapped his screen for a couple of seconds before glancing up at the jocks. "Just sent it to Principal Turner **and** Sheriff Ross."

"What makes you think we're gonna let walk out of here?" Sean asked, cracking his knuckles threateningly.

"Because you'll be the first people the police'll come after if anything happens to us,"

Cutter replied, his voice low and deadly serious. "You want to risk additional assault charges?" The jocks didn't have to say anything for the trio to know they were safe. As they headed out of the gym, Linda smiled and gave a small wave to the five, all of whom looked like they were about to throw up.

* * *

By the time the first bell had rung, the entire school was abuzz by what Cutter, Wally, and Linda had done. Pete had quickly arrived with a few of his deputies, and the five football players had been swiftly arrested, charged with assault of a minor for Collin, and attempted sexual assault on Linda. Because they were all minors, Principal Turner instructed Wally, Cutter, and Linda to get their belongings, and he would inform their parents to meet them at the police station so they could give their statements; the trio left to go to their lockers.

Linda was thankful the hallways were quiet and empty as she made her way to her locker; she didn't want to be around when first period was over and everyone would be in the halls. She quickly worked the combination and opened the door, grabbing a few of her books and putting them in her bag; she jumped a little as the door suddenly slammed shut, and she looked over the see Darrien glaring at her.

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Linda asked, a little annoyed.

"You and those dorks from the Torch got my friends arrested," Darrien replied.

"Your friends illegally strung up a student in a cornfield," Linda retorted, frowning. "He could have died."

"Big freakin' deal," Darrien replied. "Do you realize we're gonna have to pull players from junior varsity—who suck—just so we don't forfeit the rest of the season? We might as well kiss State goodbye now."

Linda started at him in angry disbelief. "Do you know what they threatened to do to me?" she asked.

"Well, can you blame them?" Darrien asked.

Linda raised her eyebrows in shock. "What did you just say?"

"You really think I was interested in you because of your personality?" Darrien asked. "Don't be so naïve, Linda. You've got a hot body, I've got needs." Linda slowly clenched her fists, and she could feel the heat building in the back of her eyes.

"Is there a problem here?"

Linda quickly calmed down when she heard the familiar voice and glanced over Darrien's shoulder, seeing Pete approaching; his eyes stared right at Darrien, almost like they were burning holes through him.

"I said, is there a problem here?" Pete asked, stopping near the football player.

"No, sir," Darrien replied, "no problem here."

"Good, then I believe you have a class you're supposed to be at," Pete said.

"Fine," Darrien replied cooly before glancing at Linda smugly. "See you around, Kent." He turned and headed down the hallway; Pete waited until he'd turned a corner before glancing at Linda.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," Linda replied curtly as she gathered her bag.

Pete noticed her eyes glistening with tears but he didn't say anything; he simply sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, escorting her down the hallway.

* * *

Clark had spent thirty minutes pacing back and forth in the kitchen, trying to remain calm and collected, but it wasn't easy. He had been working at his desk when his father had called and explained the situation Linda was currently involved in—including the threats made against his cousin. The reporter almost bolted out of the newsroom at that moment, but Jonathan had adamantly told him to wait at the house until they came back; Clark agreed and left as discreetly as possible, making it to the farm in less than five seconds.

Clark sighed impatiently and continued pacing until he heard the sound of the door opening. He stopped and looked over as Jonathan came in, glancing at his son with a serious expression, followed by Martha and Linda; Clark saw a dejected look on his cousin's face as she hung her head. Clark crossed the room and Linda barely had time to register her cousin's presence before he gently hugged her as tight as he dared.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Linda felt a little self-conscious, knowing that Clark would only be there if he knew what had happened. She was tempted to pull away, but she couldn't think of any place she'd rather be at the moment; she hugged him back. "I'm fine," she said softly. She pulled back, blinking back tears.

"You sure?" Clark asked. Linda nodded, and Clark glanced at their parents. "So, what happened?"

"Well, Pete took everyone's statements," Martha said as she closed the door, "and the guys responsible are all being charged with assault against Collin Thomas for the Scarecrow incident and for the threats made against Linda."

"So, they're in jail, right?" Clark asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Jonathan replied, trying to keep his voice calm, but everyone could see he was visibly upset. "They've all lawyered up already and posted bail, but the good news is that they've all been expelled."

"Should I stay around in case they try to cause any more trouble?" Clark asked, recalling his encounter with Eric Marsh and his group when he was in high school.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," Jonathan replied, knowing exactly what his son was thinking. He sighed and glanced at Linda, who stayed next to Clark, and his expression softened. "But I think we need to talk about what happened." He walked over to his daughter, who looked absolutely miserable; he took a deep breath, making sure his voice stayed calm and soothing. "You want to tell us why you went behind our backs after we told you to stay out?"

"I wanted to help," Linda said simply. "I just couldn't stand the thought of an innocent person getting hurt while the people who did it walked free like nothing happened."

"Linda, we understand that," Martha replied, "but this is why we didn't want you get involved; we didn't want something to happen to you."

"I wasn't expecting to be…threatened like that," Linda said. She shook her head, looking almost disgusted. "The way they were looking at me—I mean, I know they couldn't hurt me, but…," she shook her head, shivering involuntarily. "And then when Darrien said what he said to me…."

"What did he say?" Clark asked curiously, feeling his hackles rising. He glanced over and saw his parents expression, and the reporter knew Linda hadn't told any of them.

"Let's just say he was more concerned that the football team wasn't going to State than the fact that his friends threatened me," Linda replied. "In fact, he made it quite clear about the **real** reason he was interested in me—which explains why Dick punched him." She tried to keep her composure, but she felt her chin quiver slightly, her eyes welling up with tears.

Martha felt her stomach wrench as she gently pulled Linda to her, wrapping her arms around her; she rubbed her daughter's back gently and whispering to her softly. She glanced over at her husband and son and saw their dark expressions. She pulled back and saw her daughter appeared more relaxed, even though she still looked upset and emotionally drained.

"Can I go upstairs now?" Linda asked quietly.

"Sure, but we need to discuss your punishment," Jonathan answered gently. Linda looked at her father in disbelief, but then she sighed and nodded. "Now, all things considered, we're willing to be lenient, but you'll still be grounded for the rest of the week: you come home from school, you do your chores and your homework, and that's it, but you can still talk to your friends if they call or email, okay?" Linda nodded, and Jonathan leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Good. Now, why don't you go upstairs and get some rest?" Linda nodded again and headed up the stairs.

Jonathan waited until he was certain Linda was in her room before he walked over to the island and rested his knuckles against the top of the counter. He took a deep breath before he angrily knocked the fruit bowl aside; apples and oranges scattered as the bowl hit the stove and clattered loudly to the ground. Clark and Martha just stood there, staring.

"This is going to get really ugly," Jonathan said quietly, "and Linda's going to be right in the middle of it."

"You don't really think people are going to blame her for what happened, do you?" Martha asked.

Jonathan turned around, his face a mix of sad pity. "Martha, you and I both know how this town treats football—it's almost like a religion—and five members of the high school team were just expelled; people are going to blame Linda for that—regardless of the reason."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Everyone looked and saw a man with average build, short silver gray hair, and blue eyes. It had been years since Clark had last seen him, but he still recognized him.

"Coach Quigley," the reporter said as he hurried and walked over to open the door. "Come on in."

"Thanks, Clark," Quigley said as he came in. "I can't stay long, but I did want to stop by and see how your daughter was doing."

"She's pretty upset by what happened," Jonathan replied, "understandably, but she'll be fine. Thank you for asking." He cleared his throat, glancing at Quigley suspiciously as he nodded. "Coach, why are you really here?"

"To set the record straight on a few things," Quigley replied. He saw the Kents glance at each other briefly. "Given what we all know about Smallville's loyalty to its high school football team, I can understand that you might be worried about possible retaliation against your daughter because of what happened. I'm here to tell you all that's not something you'll have to worry about."

"Really?" Clark asked, a little surprised.

Quigley nodded. "Clark, you know how I ran my team," he said to the reporter. "I expected **all** my players to behave a certain way on and off the field—and that hasn't changed since you graduated. Those five guys who assaulted Collin Thomas and threatened Linda don't represent the values I expect my players to have; I fully support the decision to have them expelled from the team and the school—and if that means we don't go to State this year, then so be it."

"Well, Coach, we definitely appreciate the support," Jonathan replied, "but our real concern is the rest of your players—and the other students; you can't control all of them."

"No, I can't," Quigley said, nodding in agreement, "but I had a nice, long talk with my players a couple of hours ago. Several of them have younger sisters—the rest didn't like the idea of five huge guys ganging up against a teenage girl, especially from five guys they didn't like at all. Either way, you don't have to worry about anything except support from them as well."

"Well, that's a relief," Martha replied.

"Principal Turner also called an assembly earlier," Quigley added. "From what I saw, I don't think my former players were as liked by the student body as they might have thought; there might be trouble from a few students, but something tells me Linda won't have anything to worry about." He nodded politely and excused himself, closing the kitchen door behind him.

"You think he's telling the truth?" Jonathan asked Clark.

Clark nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah, I really don't think we're going to have anything to worry about."

(Chapter 10)


	11. Chapter 11

For the second day in a row, Linda isolated herself in her room, laying on her bed and staring numbly at the ceiling, replaying the events from the day in her mind while she slowly pet Streaky, who had snuggled next to her; Krypto lay at the foot of her bed, curled up and sleeping soundly. She heard a familiar beeping sound from her laptop and looked over; a Skype window, requesting a video chat, had popped up, and Linda's eyes widened when she saw it was sent from Jimmy.

The young girl quickly grabbed her glasses from the nightstand and scrambled over, eliciting an annoyed hiss from Streaky, but Linda ignored her as she quickly sat at her desk, quickly putting on her glasses before clicking 'Accept' on the window; a new window opened, and Linda saw Jimmy sitting in his room, looking at her worriedly.

"Jimmy?" she asked as she quickly wiped the tear streaks from her face; she glanced at the clock on her desktop. "Why aren't you at work? Are you sick?"

Jimmy shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he said. He opened his mouth, then closed it, swallowing. "Look, I'm sorry I haven't been on the past few days…I just," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I'm sorry. I promise that won't ever happen again."

Linda tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows. "Jimmy, it's okay," she said. "I'm sure you had a good reason to—"

"No, I didn't," Jimmy interrupted, looking more upset than Linda had ever remembered seeing him; he looked on the verge of tears. "That's the thing, I didn't—and you almost got…hurt." He leaned closer toward the screen. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, they didn't actually hurt you, did they?"

"What are you talking about?" Linda asked. "How did you—" She closed her eyes and sighed. "Clark called you, didn't he?"

"Actually, Lois called him," Jimmy replied, "trying to figure out where he was. Clark told her what had happened…and she told Chloe, Mr. White, and me—privately, don't worry. I couldn't focus on anything, so Mr. White said I could go home early." He sighed, shrugging. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Linda smiled ever so slightly, touched. "I'm fine," she said softly. "Really." Jimmy looked unconvinced. "Jimmy, I wasn't in any real danger. Wally and Cutter—they work at the Torch, our school paper—were there the whole time, filming everything."

"What were you doing?" Jimmy asked.

"Trying to get them to confess to their crime," Linda answered.

"You purposefully put yourself in a dangerous situation?" Jimmy asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Linda muttered before sighing. "Look, I did it because an innocent person got hurt."

Jimmy just stared at her for a few moments, then chuckled. "Yeah," he said, "I understand." He saw her trying to keep her composure. "Hey, what's wrong?" Linda shook her head, but Jimmy raised his eyebrow, undaunted. "Linda, what happened?"

"How can some people be so…mean?" Linda asked softly, her eyes bright with tears.

"Some people are just like that, I guess," Jimmy answered, his voice just as soft. "They like to gang up and pick on people smaller and weaker than themselves; they're cowards, really."

"I don't mean the football players," Linda replied. Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows, and Linda cleared her throat. "There was this guy, his name is Darrien Bounder, who…said he liked me…said I was special, and he…kissed me yesterday." She took a deep breath. "He got mad at me for getting his friends arrest, told me the team wouldn't be going to State now, and when I asked him if he knew what they had threatened to do to me," she wiped her cheek as a tear fell down, "he said 'can you blame them?'"

"What?" Jimmy asked, his blood boiling.

"And then he proceeded to tell me the **real** reason he was interested in me," Linda continued, "that he 'had needs.'" She shook her head, wiping her eyes, embarrassed. "You know, since I've lived in Smallville, there have been three guys who have been interested in me: one who's blown me off since Friday, and then when he punched the second guy—who I now know deserved it, because he's a jerk—he ruined my sculpture, but he's still not talking to me…and the third guy…" she trailed off as she glanced at Jimmy.

"What about him?" Jimmy asked, slowly and cautiously.

Linda opened her mouth, then she sighed. "I'm really glad he's talking to me again," she replied, smiling a little. Jimmy smiled back, and Linda felt her cheeks growing warm; she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey, uh, I need to go," Jimmy said. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Linda replied, nodding, "I'll be fine. Thanks."

"No sweat," Jimmy said. "Bye."

"Bye."

Jimmy clicked the close button and shut down the program before opening his Internet browser. He typed 'Smallville High Darrien Bounder' in the search window, and only had to wait a few seconds before several results showed up. Jimmy clicked on an image of the senior, enlarging it; Jimmy's eyes narrowed as studied ever feature on the smug face.

"Gotcha," he muttered.

* * *

The next morning Linda clutched the strap of her backpack and took a deep breath as she headed up the stairs into Smallville High; she wasn't sure what to expect from the student body, and adverted her eyes to the floor, trying to avoid eye contact as she made her way down the hall. She heard a smattering of whispers, which slowly grew louder; a few whoops and cheers followed, joined by loud clapping. Linda stopped and slowly looked up, confused, and saw both sides of the hallway lined with students; a few of them looked at Linda with disgust, but most of them had smiles on their faces, clapping loudly.

Linda slowly smiled, feeling more confident; she took a deep breath as she continued down the hall to her locker. She quickly dialed her combination and opened it, gathering her supplies for the day.

"You keep this up, you could run for Student Body President."

Linda stiffened a little, and her heart raced a little; taking a deep breath and swallowing, she slowly turned around and saw Dick standing behind her; he held her Homecoming tiara and sash in his hands, looking apologetic.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Linda replied coolly. Miss Patterson had given her an extension on her sculpture, but Linda was still upset at Dick for ruining the original. "So, destroy any **other** good art projects since Monday?"

Dick sighed. "Okay, I deserved that," he said, "and I'm still really, really, **really** sorry."

"I know," Linda replied sincerely, her expression softening, "and I know why you did it. Darrien's a jerk."

"So, I'm forgiven?" Dick asked hopefully.

"Why you've been avoiding me since Friday?" Linda asked.

Dick looked a little sheepish. "Would you believe I was worried you'd get rabies?" he asked.

Linda furrowed her eyebrows. "You mean, from the rat?" she asked. Dick shrugged then nodded. "You know, even if that rat had rabies, would it have been that bad if it had bit me? You said the shots weren't that bad."

"They weren't, really," Dick said, "but if something had happened to you," he shook his head, "I just couldn't stand the thought of you being hurt—by a rat or anything else."

Linda smiled a little, looking confused. "So, because you were worried about my safety, you avoided me?"

"Yeah, not the smartest move, I know," Dick replied, wincing, "and I'm hoping you'll overlook that **minor** error in judgment on my part and give me a second chance." He smiled a little and held out her stuff like a peace offering. "Oh, I found these in the back of my car…I figured you'd want them back."

Linda took the items. "Thanks," she said, carefully putting them in her locker, then she hesitated. "Dick…can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure," Dick replied.

"I do forgive you for what happened on Monday," Linda said slowly, "and I really like you, but—"

"Don't," Dick said, interrupting her gently, his expression changing; he sighed. "I know what you're going to say."

"I don't think you do," Linda replied. She paused, making sure to choose her words carefully. "Dick, if I'm going to be honest, I'm still pretty upset by how you treated me on Friday and what you did on Monday—even if Darrien deserved it."

"I know, and I said I'm really, really sorry," Dick said, a little frustrated.

"And I said I know you are," Linda replied patiently, "but I still need to deal with that…and I can't do that honestly if we're seeing each other."

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Linda and Dick looked over to see Cecilia approaching with her friends behind her; all three of them stared at the two with expressions of annoyance.

"You know, Kent," Cecilia continued, "you have a lot of nerve."

"And I'm sure you're going to tell me **exactly** what it is, right?" Linda asked, annoyed.

"Five guys make a harmless threat against you," Cecilia replied, "and now the cheerleading squad is reduced to cheering on a cut-rate team that doesn't stand a chance at getting State. You and those wanna-be reporters should have just left well enough alone."

"I'm sure Collin Thomas would disagree," Linda replied calmly, noticing out of her peripheral vision that students were stopping to watch the confrontation, "but I'd have a feeling you couldn't care less. I know it's hard to think about other things when your ego takes up ninety-five percent of your functioning brain capacity."

"Ooh, Miss Farm Girl got a dig in," Cecilia said mockingly. "I guess shoveling cow patties every day is good for something, huh?"

"Actually it is," Linda replied, noticing students were slowly stopping and staring at the commotion. "You see, Cecilia, a couple of weeks ago, I did some calculating; turns out the amount of manure our whole herd produces in one week doesn't come close to the amount of crap coming out of your mouth in a single day."

"And cow manure eventually loses its stink," Mattie spoke up as she walked over with Andy, Buzz, Cutter, Wally, and Gar; Mattie stood on Linda's left side, while the boys hung back, watching the exchange with interest.

"While some people carry a stench with them all their lives," Andy added, flanking Linda's right side.

Linda didn't turn around or even smile as she continued staring at Cecilia, but inwardly she was doing cartwheels, thankful that she had the support of her friends. A thought suddenly came to mind, and she allowed herself a small smile as she tilted her head. "You know what, Cecilia?" she said. "I think I finally know what your deal is with me."

"And what would that be?" Cecilia asked snootily.

"You're jealous," Linda answerd simply.

Cecilia snorted, and her friends snickered in amusement. "Of **you**? What could **you** possibly have that would make **me** jealous?"

"Better art talent, that's for sure," Gar muttered to the guys.

"As I recall," Cecilia turned to Gar, glaring, "I placed higher than you, so I'd keep your trap shut, Logan."

"Yeah, well, Linda placed higher than **you** ," Andy said, "so maybe you should follow your own advice, **Brighten**."

"And that's another thing," Mattie continued. "We're actually **loyal** to our friend, while you wouldn't know the meaning of the word if you looked it up in the dictionary."

"I think the biggest thing bothering you is," Linda continued, trying not to smile too hard, "is that **my** curves are natural, while **yours** required silicone implants." There was a smattering of oohs and snickers from students around the hall.

Cecilia glared at Linda as she raised her fist and swung it at Linda's face. "You little bitch!" Linda swiftly caught Cecilia's wrist a couple of inches from her face, holding it tight enough to keep her in place; the cheerleader stared at her fist in shock. "What the hell?"

"Funny thing about shoveling cow patties," Linda said, her voice unwavering as she kept her eyes locked with Cecilia's. "It builds a **lot** more upper body strength than shaking a pair of pompoms." Cecilia struggled, but Linda held firmly, waiting until the cheerleader pulled back before letting go of her wrist, and she let go. Cecilia stumbled back into her friends, who caught her and prevented her from falling to the ground; they quickly righted themselves and straightened their clothes and hair.

"Go team," Linda said in a mocking cheerful voice as she pumped her fist in the air before closing her locker door. "Come on, guys." Students dispersed and continued about their business as she started walking down the hall, but after a few seconds, she realized she was alone. She stopped and turned, seeing almost all her friends staring at her in stunned amusement; Gar was the only one grinning from ear to ear. "What?"

"Who are you and what did you do with Linda?" Mattie asked, smiling a little.

"What are you talking about?" Linda asked.

"You know, Linda Kent," Andy said, amused, "looks like you, but she's got this mild-mannered artist slash farmer's daughter thing going for her."

"Hey, I think she was awesome," Gar said, still grinning.

"Does this mean you're speaking to me again, too?" Linda asked Gar.

"Yeah," Gar answered sheepishly, "and, uh, sorry about Saturday; I, uh….your cousin freaked me out a little." Linda raised an eyebrow, not sure if Gar was telling her the truth. She opened her mouth, but then Gar glanced up and saw the time on the wall clock; his eyes widened. "And if we don't get to class, Principal Turner will freak out on **all** of us." The others saw the time, and the group quickly scattered as they hurried to their separate classes. Dick and Linda made it inside their classroom and to their table just as the tardy bell rang.

"So, about what I said earlier," Linda whispered as their teacher went through the morning announcements.

"Hey, I understand," Dick replied softly.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "You're not upset?" she asked.

Dick shrugged slightly. "I am a little," he answered honestly, "but it was my fault, so I can't be mad at you."

Linda smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dick," she said before facing their teacher as he finished, completely missing the sad look in Dick's eyes.

(End of Chapter 11)


	12. Chapter 12

Five minutes after the first bell rang, the door to the boy's restroom on the east side of the first floor opened; Jimmy cautiously glanced around. Seeing the hall deserted, he stepped out carefully made his way down the hall, heading toward Darrien's first class. He glanced around, admiring the bright colors and different signs and banners everywhere. He saw a display case off to one side full of art projects; curious, he walked over and peered in. Inside were various sketches and paintings, and Jimmy saw a watercolor of a bunch of balloons. Underneath, was Linda's name, and the photographer raised his eyebrows and whistled softly; the balloons almost appeared ready to float off the canvas.

"Wow, she's good," he said softly to himself.

"Yeah, that's about all she's good at," a voice behind him muttered

Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows and slowly turned around; he stopped short when he saw his intended target standing behind him, hands stuffed in his letter jacket, his left eye still a dark purple.

"I mean, she's got a great body, don't get me wrong," Darrien continued as he walked over; Jimmy blanched slightly as the odor of cheap beer mixed with peppermint hit him head on. He had spent so enough days and nights working part-time in Bibbo's bar to know that Darrien was seriously buzzed—if not outright drunk.

"Yeah," Jimmy said slowly, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. He knew that confronting anyone while they were intoxicated was **not** the brightest move—even if the intoxicated person was a little shorter than him.

"Unfortunately, the bitch isn't as easy as she looks," Darrien added, "trust me on that."

Jimmy pursed his lips then chuckled mirthlessly. "Wow," he said softly as he turned to face the jock. "You know, I was hoping to avoid this, but I guess you **really** want to have your face rearranged."

"Whoa, what did you just say?" Darrien asked, frowning. "Did you just threaten me?"

"No, I was inviting you out for coffee, you jackass," Jimmy replied sarcastically. "That's what I do with all the assholes who treat women like garbage." He walked up to Darrien, ignoring the pungent smell on his breath, leaning close to the jock's face, his expression deadly serious. "You may have gotten away with that crap with other girls, but it stops with Linda."

"Out of my face," Darrien growled as he roughly shoved Jimmy back.

Jimmy had taken boxing, fencing, and a little martial arts and hand-to-hand (one of the perks of being Bibbo's friend and spending a good portion of his early teens on the streets), so he set his feet quickly and didn't stumble. He stood as tall as his five foot ten inch frame allowed, not bothering to even straighten his jacket.

"I mean it, Darrien," he said calmly.

"And who the hell are you?" Darrien asked. Suddenly, it was like a light bulb went off, and he sized Jimmy up; he slowly smiled, amused. "Wait, it all makes sense, now."

"What?" Jimmy asked, his guard up.

"You have a thing for the little bitch, don't you?"

Jimmy glared at Darrien, setting his jaw as he narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists; Darrien mimicked his behavior, silently taunting him, and Jimmy shook his head and chuckled. "You know," he said with an expression of resolution, "my father always told me that I should just walk away from idiots like you, that I shouldn't even waste my time, because you're never gonna change." He turned away, still looking calmly superior.

Darrien snorted and was about to walk off when Jimmy executed an impressive pivot, swinging around to face the jock with dangerous eyes. His voice was low and quiet, yet it still managed to reverberate in the air, "But I'm **nothing** like my father!"

* * *

The students had finished putting their equipment up and were wiping their tables down when they heard a muffled commotion outside.

"Class, stay here," Mr. Collins said as he headed toward the door and opened it. The muffled commotion grew louder, and the students could hear shouts and loud bangs; Mr. Collins hurried out, closing the door behind him, and the students waited a couple of seconds before hurrying over and crowding around, peering out the door window.

"There's two guys fighting it out!"

"Is that Bounder?"

"Yeah, but who's that other guy?"

Linda hung back, waiting for everyone's back to be turned, then she discreetly lowered her glasses and stared at the far wall; the layers dissolved effortlessly, and the young girl was able to see into the hallway—almost like there was a hole in the wall. Sure enough, Linda could see two guys pummeling each other; Mr. Collins, Principal Turner, AP Jefferson, and another teacher tried pulling them apart. Linda raised an eyebrow, recognizing Darrien as one of the two fighters; her eyes widened in shock as she glanced at the other fighter.

Linda quickly hopped from her stool and hurried to the door, gently pushing through the crowd. "Let me through!" she shouted. She made it to the door and quickly flung it open, heading over to the fight, just as the adults managed to pull the two fighters apart. Principal Turner and Mr. Collins restrained Darrien on one side of the hall; the jock had a rabid expression on his bruised and bloodied face as he glared at his opponent, who was being held back by AP Jefferson and the other teacher.

"Linda, get back to class!" Mr. Collins ordered, frowning at her.

"Jimmy?" Linda asked, ignoring her teacher as she stared at her friend in shock; the combination of his murderous expression and the bruises, scratches, and blood on his face made him almost unrecognizable to the young girl.

Jimmy looked over when he heard Linda's voice; his expression softened. "Hey, Linda," he said, trying to act casual. "How's it going?"

"You know this young man?" Principal Turner asked Linda.

"Yes, sir," Linda replied. "He's a friend of mine."

"I'm assuming he's not from around here," Principal Turner said as he looked at Jimmy. "Are you, young man?"

"Well, that depends on what you mean from 'around here,'" Jimmy replied wryly. "If you mean in astronomical terms, we're all located in the same realm of the solar system."

"Son, I would seriously advise against making wise cracks at the moment," Principal Turner said.

"Metropolis, sir," Jimmy mumbled quickly.

"So, you came all the way from Metropolis to pick a fight with Mr. Bounder?" AP Jefferson asked.

"Yeah, I did nothing, and this freak jumps me!" Darrien shouted, struggling a little.

"Mr. Bounder," Turner said, "I seriously doubt with the amount of alcohol I can smell on your breath at the moment that you're completely innocent in this matter; I'd advise you to calm down and zip it." He glanced at Jimmy. "Both of you to my office; I'll call Sheriff Ross to help us sort through this matter." He turned his attention to Linda. "And you, Miss Kent, will go back to class."

"Sir, with all due respect," Linda said, "could I please come down to your office as well?"

"Miss Kent," Turner replied, "considering recent events, I know you might feel like you have a bit of a higher standing at this school than the other students, but you don't."

"Believe me, sir, I don't feel that way at all," Linda said sincerely, "but I think I can explain what's going on."

Turner stared at her, and he could tell by her expression that she was being honest; he nodded. "Alright," he said. "You may join us." He turned to Darrien and Jimmy, frowning. "My office. Now." The adults let them go, and both teenagers wordlessly followed Turner down the hall, with Jefferson and Linda following behind.

(End of Chapter 12)


	13. Chapter 13

A couple of hours later, the door to Turner's office opened. Linda walked out, backpack slung over her shoulders, looking cross, followed by Jimmy; the bruises on his face had turned a wicked shade of purple, and his cuts had been tended to, but he still looked absolutely miserable. Jonathan, Martha, and Pete left behind them, looking solemn.

"Thank you again," Jonathan said to Turner as he held the door.

"You're welcome, Mr. Kent," Turner replied. The group left the office and headed into the deserted hallway.

"Well, I guess I'll be getting back to work," Pete said.

"Thank you for your help, Pete," Martha replied.

"My pleasure," Pete said. He glanced down at Jimmy, wincing inwardly at the teen's injuries; he thought briefly back to his reaction to Darrien's injuries and couldn't decide who had it worse. "I'm not going to be getting another call from Principal Turner about you showing up uninvited, am I?"

"No, sir," Jimmy mumbled.

"Good," Pete said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You know, you're really lucky, Jimmy; Darrien had a solid case against you for assault."

"Well, let's send him a card, then," Linda muttered sarcastically. "'Thanks, Darrien, for showing up drunk. Now, Jimmy won't go to jail.'" She stormed down the empty hall alone.

"I'll go talk to her," Martha said before following her daughter.

Linda angrily marched to her locker and quickly opened it. She began taking some of her books out and shoving others in, too busy to notice Martha as she approached her daughter and stood next to her.

"Do you want to talk?" Martha asked gently.

"Not really," Linda said as she continued packing her bag. Martha watched her for a few moments, then Linda suddenly stopped, her expression softening. "Why did he do it?"

"Because he couldn't stand the thought of someone treating you like that," Martha replied, "just like your father and I wouldn't."

"But you didn't come barging in here like Jimmy did," Linda said. She turned to her mother, a look of disbelief in her eyes. "Mom, you didn't see the look on Jimmy's face this morning; it was the same look that Dick had on his face right before he attacked Darrien on Monday." She shook her head. "I've never **never** seen either of them look that way—ever."

"And it scared you," Martha said.

Linda nodded. "It reminded me of the look Zor-El had on his face whenever he'd beat me," she said softly as tears welled up in her eyes. "There was nothing but pure hate and rage."

Martha felt her heart wrench put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Linda, I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you in Argo City," she said, "but I do know that both Dick and Jimmy really care about you, and they will do everything they can to protect you—just like Clark, your father, and I will. Did they go about it the right way? No, but their intentions were noble, and that has to count for something."

"But I don't know how I feel about them, now," Linda said softly. "I still like both of them—a lot—but…they both blew me off, and then they think they suddenly charge back into my life like a pack of rondors." She shook her head. "I already told Dick I needed some space," she sighed, "and I think I'm going to have to tell Jimmy the same thing."

"Then tell him that," Martha replied. "If you need to take some time to think things over, then he'll understand." She tilted her head a little, knowingly. "As I recall, you two have already gone through this once."

"Yeah, and it really hurt," Linda replied honestly. "I don't know if I can do that to him. I know I hurt Dick when I told him I needed some space; he doesn't think I noticed, but I could tell he was hurt." She shook her head. "I don't know what to do here."

"Sweetie, you don't have to make a decision now," Martha said, "and if they care about you, they'll respect that—even if they don't like it."

Linda looked a little relieved as she hugged Martha. "Thanks, Mom."

Martha smiled and hugged her back; she glanced over at Linda's shoulder and saw the tiara and sash in her locker. "Linda, what's that?"

Linda turned and smiled a little. "Just something from Homecoming," she said as she pulled them out and stared at them. "I left them in Dick's car on Friday. With everything going on, I'd forgotten about the whole thing until Dick returned them this morning." She carefully put them in her backpack.

"So, was Dick crowned the duke?" Martha asked, sensing the plastic tiara wasn't a big deal for Linda, so she wouldn't make it one.

"Nope, it was Gar," Linda answered as she finished gathering the rest of her stuff.

"The one who stopped by the other day?" Martha asked. Linda nodded. "He seems like a nice guy."

"Yeah," Linda said distantly, thinking about what Gar had told her earlier. She mentally shook herself back to reality and closed her backpack before shutting and locking her locker. "I'm ready."

"You sure you don't want to stay for the rest of the day?" Martha asked.

Linda shook her head. "I wouldn't be able to focus on anything," she said before shrugging. "Besides, I blew my chances at getting a Perfect Attendance award long before today." She smiled sadly, and Martha put an arm around her shoulders as they headed down the hall.

* * *

Perry White appeared nonplussed as he walked slowly to his door and opened it. "Lane!" he shouted. "Sullivan! Kent! My office!" Clark, Lois, and Chloe looked up from their desks then glanced at each other briefly before getting up and heading over; they walked into Perry's office and waited until Perry closed the door and sat back at his desk.

"So, does anyone want to know who I just got off the phone with?" Perry asked.

"Look, Chief, if it's about harassing Henderson about that drug raid," Lois said, "I admit that it was probably not a good idea to start questioning him after he'd gotten punched in the mouth, but threatening to get me fired was a bit much, don't you think?" Perry raised an eyebrow, and Lois winced a little. "And that's not who was calling, right?"

"Right," Perry replied, "but we'll **definitely** talk about that one later. I was actually referring to the call I just received from your mother, Clark."

"Why is my mother calling you?" Clark asked, confused.

"Oh, no reason," Perry answered casually. "She just wanted to make sure we were aware that Jimmy wouldn't be coming in, because he is spending the day in Smallville."

"Why is Jimmy in Smallville?" Chloe asked.

"Well, it appears that he left of his apartment at four-thirty this morning without telling anyone," Perry replied, "drove to Smallville in time to sneak into the high school by blending in with the other students, and waited in one of the boy's bathrooms until after the first bell rang just to confront another student."

Clark slowly closed his eyes and sighed. "Was it Darrien Bounder?" he asked.

"Yep," Perry replied. "Now, your mother was a little vague on the details, but my gut is telling me it had something to do with what happened to Linda the other day."

"I thought all the guys involved were arrested and expelled," Chloe said.

"They were," Clark replied. "Darrien Bounder is friends with the guys who threatened Linda; he had also shown interest in her as well. When he found out what had happened, he got mad at Linda and blamed her for ruining their chance at State. When she asked him if he knew what they had threatened to do to her," he looked disgusted for even having to say it, "he said 'can you blame them?'"

"Nice guy," Lois replied sarcastically. "And I think I can guess the **real** reason he was interested in her in the first place."

"Is Linda okay?" Chloe asked cautiously.

"Physically, yeah," Clark answered, "but she was pretty hurt." He sighed and shrugged. "I guess Jimmy contacted her yesterday, and she must have told him what happened."

"And he rode in on his proverbial white horse to defend her honor," Chloe added, slightly amused. "And they say chivalry is dead."

"Well, Jimmy's lucky he isn't," Perry replied. "That Bounder kid was going to press assault charges."

"'Was'?" Clark asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he decided not to after Sheriff Ross mentioned that the legal drinking age is Kansas is twenty one," Perry replied, "and Darrien's a few years shy and his breath smelled of stale beer and mints."

"Darrien came to school drunk?" Chloe asked incredulously.

"He had a BAC of point oh six," Perry explained. "Police checked his vehicle and found three empty beer cans, an empty container of Tic Tacs, and a fake I.D. Sheriff charged him with minor in possession and carrying a false I.D.; as he was being put in cuffs, the principal informed he was being kicked off the football team and expelled."

"Oh, man, I wish I could have been there to see his reaction," Lois asked, smirking.

"According to Clark's mom," Perry replied, "he shouted obscenities and then kicked a deputy."

"What about Jimmy?" Clark asked cautiously.

"Well, he was let off with a warning," Perry answered, "and told not to step foot on the property again unless he had permission, or he **would** be charged with criminal trespassing. As for the assault charges Darrien's going to have a hard time proving he was the victim: he came to school intoxicated and tried to hide it, plus his behavior after being arrested."

"Yeah, but unfortunately, the Bounder family is on the upper echelon of the local social circles," Chloe said. "Not as high as the Luthors, but they still have some influence over things."

"You don't think this is over?" Perry asked. Chloe shook his head, and Perry pursed his lips, thinking. "Alright, I want you and Lois to see what you can find out about his family—anything you think might be important; if something happens, I want to be prepared."

"You got it," Chloe said before leaving the office with Lois.

"So, how's Jimmy, really?" Clark asked after the door closed.

"He's with your folks and Linda at the farm," Perry answered.

Clark nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "Did anyone call his mom?"

"Already done," Perry replied. "She's in the middle of processing some evidence at the crime lab and won't be getting off until six."

"What I don't get is why Darrien would knowingly go to school drunk in the first place," Clark said. "He's underage, and the tries to cover up with breath mints, so he knows it's wrong.

"Well, I know you're probably not going to like hearing this, Clark," Perry said, "but I have a feeling he was looking for Linda." He watched as Clark's features darken, his jaw setting. "Clark, no."

"So, I'm supposed to just stay here and do nothing?" Clark asked frustrated. "Do you know how it felt to hear from my parents that some punks threatened to hurt Linda?" He knew they wouldn't have been able to hurt her; it was the image of them **wanting** to do it that sickened him.

"Clark," Perry said gently, "I can't even begin to imagine what it felt like to hear that, but I know you can't go off half-cocked, blinded by your emotions; that's what got Jimmy in hot water."

"Maybe he had the right idea," Clark muttered.

"Maybe," Perry replied, shrugged, "maybe not." He studied his reporter's expression and sighed. "Look, why don't you head out to Smallville?"

"You sure?" Clark asked.

Perry raised an eyebrow. "Clark, I've been working at this paper longer than you've been a reporter. I think we can manage without you for a while." He looked annoyed, but Clark saw the slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Thanks, Chief," Clark said, smiling a little before turning and leaving. As he closed the door behind him, Perry sighed as he started organizing some papers on his desk.

(End of Chapter 13)


	14. Chapter 14

Jimmy breathed heavily and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he leaned again the pitchfork. He stared at the last clean stall, then glanced at the others he had completed earlier. As sore as he was, he had to admit he'd done a pretty decent job; he sighed, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction.

"Not bad."

Jimmy sucked in his breath and stiffened a little when he heard the familiar voice and he slowly glanced over. Linda approached him, holding a tall glass of lemonade with ice; Jimmy couldn't read the expression on her face (which worried him a little), but she didn't appear as cross as she had earlier in the day, so he was a little relieved.

"Thirsty?" she asked, holding out the glass.

"Yeah, thanks," Jimmy said, taking the offered beverage. He quickly gulped it down and felt the cold hit his stomach, spreading out; he sighed, smacking his lips a little. "Your mom makes some good lemonade."

"Actually, I made it," Linda replied.

"Oh," Jimmy said, a little surprised. "Well, it was very good."

"Thanks," Linda smiled briefly before glancing at the stalls. "So, like I said, not a bad job."

"Thanks," Jimmy replied slowly, noticing her business-like tone, "but it's not easy. I don't know how you do it every day." He smiled a little, hoping a little compliment would help ease the tension.

"Well, it helps not to do it after getting into a fist fight," Linda replied, slightly sarcastic.

Jimmy's smile faded. _Apparently not_ , he thought. He sighed and leaned the pitchfork against a nearby column. "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened. It was stupid, and I shouldn't have done it."

"Yes, it was," Linda replied, "and, yes, you shouldn't have." Her expression softened a little. "Jimmy, I understand why you did it, but I could have dealt with it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Jimmy said, frustrated. "What he said to you, and then what he called you when I was talking to him," he shook his head, "I wasn't going to just stand by and let him get away with that. I've seen too many people like him just walk away without getting what they deserve."

Linda's expression softened a little and sighed. "Believe me, I understand—more than you think," she said, "but you could have been arrested—or worse—really hurt." She shook her head. "It wasn't worth it."

Jimmy sighed and put the cup on a nearby workbench before coming back over. "Yeah, it was," he said.

"Even the black eye, bruised knuckles, and split lip?" Linda asked, wincing at his injuries.

"'Tis but a scratch,'" Jimmy said is a horrible fake British accent. Linda raised her eyebrow, and Jimmy realized she had no idea what he was talking about. He started chuckling, then winced a little and gingerly grabbed the front of his stomach. "Ooh, bad idea."

"What's wrong?" Linda asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Jimmy replied, trying to wave her off, trying to smile but grimacing instead.

Linda stared at him for a few moments, then said, "Take off your shirt."

Jimmy paused and stared at her, his mouth slightly open. "Huh?" he finally asked.

"Take off your shirt," Linda replied, more firmly.

"Look, I'm fine," Jimmy reassured, "there's nothing to—"

"Now," Linda demanded as she folded her arms, her jaw set, "or I'll do it for you."

Jimmy gaped, his eyebrows nearly rising off his forehead; he had never seen Linda show any hint of assertiveness, and he would have grinned and made a joke about it if she hadn't looked like a crouching tiger, ready to attack if he refused. His throat dry, his palms sweaty, and his heart racing, he grabbed the hem of his shirt; taking a deep breath, he gathered up his courage before slowly pulling his fabric over his head.

Linda's eyes and mouth widened slightly as she looked Jimmy up and down. The photographer was far from being bulky with a six-pack, but he **definitely** had some muscle tone—especially in his arms; Linda began to muse on how well he kept it hidden underneath his clothes, but her attention was quickly drawn to two bruises: one was in the center of his chest, over his sternum, while the other was centered on his abdomen; both were already a wicked shade of deep purple.

"Does it hurt?" Linda asked worriedly as she stared at the bruise on his sternum.

"Only when I laugh," Jimmy joked and grimaced as he chuckled. He stiffened a little as she reached out and gingerly touched the bruise.

"What about that?" Linda asked.

"Um…a little," Jimmy said, his cheeks growing warm.

"What about here?" Linda asked, moving her fingers carefully over his stomach.

"Not too bad," Jimmy replied, swallowing nervously.

Linda quickly x-rayed both bruises, then sighed with relief as she returned to her normal vision. "Well, the good news is you don't have any internal bleeding or broken bones," she said.

"How do you know that?" Jimmy asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Linda stopped, her eyes widening ever so slightly as she racked her brain for a plausible excuse. "Uh…," she said slowly, "Dad showed me how to determine if any of the livestock had internal bleeding or broken bones," she shrugged, "and I think it's the same for people." She stared at his abdomen, her fingers still on the bruise. "I mean, it's not hard or anything, "her eyes widened more as her cheeks grew hot, "uh, I mean, it's hard—don't get me wrong—but it's not **hard** , you know, and, uh, it would hurt a lot more…if you had broken something." She adverted her gaze as her eyes started feeling **really** warm; she briefly squeezed them shut. _Stop it, stop it, stop it_ , she thought as she quickly pulled her hand away.

"So, what should I do, then?" Jimmy asked softly.

Linda swallowed and cleared her throat as she looked up. "You should put some ice on it to keep it from swelling," she said, trying to keep her gaze above his neck. "Course, you should have said something **earlier** instead of **now**."

"But then you wouldn't have gotten such a **nice** view."

Jimmy and Linda both toward the sound of the sarcastic voice and saw Dick standing just inside the barn, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He held a manila folder in one hand, and both Jimmy and Linda could see the sour expression on his face, his jaw set.

"Dick, what are you talking about?" Linda asked, confused.

Jimmy instantly recognized the other guy from the photos Martha had sent Clark last week, and he quickly sized Dick up, wondering why he appeared shorter in the photos; the photographer quickly put his shirt on as Dick walked over.

"Oh, nothing, really," Dick continued, keeping his gaze on Jimmy. "Just trying to figure what the hell is really going on here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jimmy asked, frowning as Dick edged closer; he stood tall, trying to ignore the height difference between Dick and himself.

"Guys, please," Linda said softly, but both guys ignored her.

"Jimmy Olsen, right?" Dick asked.

"What's it to you?" Jimmy replied.

"Guys," Linda said, a little louder.

"Just trying to figure out the **real** reason why you'd travel all the way down here just to pick a fight with someone you don't even know," Dick answered.

"Apparently finishing the job **you** couldn't," Jimmy replied, undaunted, a smug on his face. "Word of advice, Malverne: don't start a fight if you don't intend to actually finish it."

"Okay, that is enough!" Linda shouted. Both guys jumped slightly and looked over at the young girl in shock; she stared at both of them with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "What the hell is the matter with you two?"

Jimmy's expression softened. "Linda, I—"

"Save it," Linda interrupted. The young girl had spent most of the day dreading what she was going to say, but that all changed the moment Dick and Jimmy started acting like two boxers circling each other. She was actually relieved they were both there; she'd only have to say what was on her mind one time.

"I don't know who either of you think you are," she continued, "but I am **not** doing this." She took a deep breath as she turned to Jimmy. "Look, the last time you were here I had a really great time—and you said you did, too—then you said you wanted to be friends until you figured out how you really felt about me; I waited for a month, but you never said anything. Then Dick showed interest in me, and instead of talking to me, you decided to just blow me off for a few days."

"Something I would **never** do," Dick muttered.

"Oh, really?" Linda asked him. "Is that why you blew me off all weekend because you were scared I'd get rabies from a stupid rat?!" Dick adverted his eyes, not saying anything. "Oh, and let's not forget Darrien. Now, yes, he's a complete jerk, but instead of talking to me about it, both of you decided to just rush to my rescue out of the blue by beating him up!" She took a deep breath, calming down a bit, lowering her voice. "Now, I understand why you did it—and I care about both of you—but you didn't take my feelings into consideration with your actions; that scared me and really hurt." She had to admit she was satisfied to see them both looking guilty as they looked down at their feet; she wanted them to squirm a little.

"So," Linda continued, calming further until her voice reached a normal level, "until I can deal with all this, I really need some space—and if you both care for me as much as you say, then you'll respect that. Okay?" The guys nodded mutely. "Thank you."

"How touching."

Everyone looked toward the barn's entrance and saw a man in his late forties; he wore a crisp black business suit and expensive shoes, and all three teens noticed he appeared to be an older version of Darrien, right down to the smirk; the only real differences were some lines on the face (especially under the eyes) and the graying of the hair around the sideburns.

"Can I help you?" Linda asked cautiously.

"Liam Bounder," the man said, looking the young girl up and down as he approached the trio; Jimmy and Dick both flanked Linda protectively, their jaws set.

"What do you want, Mister Bounder?" Dick asked, trying to keep calm, trying not to imagine all the lecherous thoughts the older man was thinking at that moment.

The older gentleman glanced at Dick, almost amused. "No reason, Mr. Bounder," he said. He glanced briefly at Jimmy, before looking back at Linda; his expression quickly became more serious. "I just want to talk."

"Good," a familiar voice spoke up, and everyone glanced over to see Clark standing in the entrance of the barn; he was still in his own business suit, his jacket unbuttoned, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets; his jaw set, his expression a whole different kind of serious as he stared right at Darrien's father. "Let's talk."

(End of Chapter 14)


	15. Chapter 15

Everyone stared at Clark as he walked over and discreetly put himself between Liam and the teenagers, facing the businessman. Linda was a little irked that Clark was blocking her view of the confrontation, but she knew she couldn't move to the side without drawing any attention—and she figured she'd better stay where she was at the moment.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" Clark asked the businessman.

"I'm just curious as to why my son was arrested when both of these boys," Liam glared briefly at Dick and Jimmy, "appear to be going unpunished for **their** actions." He looked back at Clark. "I'm sure that has **nothing** to do with the sheriff being your friend."

"Mister Bounder," Clark said calmly, even though he really wanted to punch the guy through the barn wall, "Dick was suspended from school for his actions, and Darrien told Sheriff Ross he wasn't going to file assault charges; he signed a waiver to that."

"And what about him?" Liam asked, staring right at Jimmy. "He purposefully came looking to pick a fight with my son."

"Yeah, well, the jackass purposefully came to school hammered," Jimmy retorted, stepping forward. Clark turned and glared at him, and Jimmy quickly backed down.

"Mister Bounder," Clark said, "Jimmy's admitted to coming down here looking for Darrien but says he decide not to fight him when he saw he was intoxicated—that it was your son who actually instigated the fight."

"And you believe him?" Liam asked.

"Yes," Clark replied without hesitation.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Liam asked, crossing his arms. "I thought a journalist's first loyalty is to his citizens, not each other."

"Funny you should mention loyalty," Clark said. "Before I came out here, I had a little conversation with someone who values loyalty in everyone he works with. You know Bruce Wayne, right?"

"Course I do," Liam snorted. "He's our biggest buyer."

"I know," Clark said, "he told me—and he said he's very satisfied with all the equipment and the business you've provided for the agricultural section of his company." Liam looked a little smug. "However, he admitted that he was a little troubled to hear about the situation with your son, but he was confident that you'd handle it fairly." Liam suddenly appeared a little less smug. "He said he understands the difficulty of the situation, considering your son's involved, but he knows you'll do the right thing in allowing justice to take its course, or he said—and I'm quoting him here—'he would feel compelled to find another supplier so as not to blemish the reputation and image that Wayne Tech represents to its customers by conducting business with those of questionable business practices.'"

Liam's expression didn't change, but Clark saw the flash of anger wash over his eyes as his fists slowly clenched; the reporter picked up on the ever so slight grinding sound as the businessman set his jaw, and it took all of Clark's strength not to return the smug smile Liam once had on his own face.

"If you want to talk to Bruce personally," Clark continued as he pulled out his cellphone, "I have his number in my 'Contacts.'"

"Are you threatening me?" Liam asked.

"No," Clark answered calmly, "Bruce is, and we both know what would happen to your business if he were to find another supplier. If I were you, I wouldn't call his bluff." Clark put his phone back in his pocket, his expression growing serious. "And that would include any retaliation against Dick or Jimmy: anything happens to them, Bruce takes his business elsewhere—and you and I will have a little talk; the same goes for your son."

Liam just glared at Clark; both men just stared at each other for the longest time before the businessman turned around and stormed toward the barn doors. He stopped just outside the door and pivoted around to face the group. "Don't think this is over," he said as he glanced between the four of them before marching out of the barn; the group inwardly sighed with relief.

"Dick," Clark asked without turning around, "may I ask why you're here?" His voice sounded calm, but the teenagers knew he was far from **being** calm **.**

"I, uh, was just dropping by to give Linda her homework," Dick said cautiously, slowly holding up the folder of papers, "and now that I have," he quickly shoved the folder into Linda's hands, "I'm gonna go. Bye." He quickly hurried out of the barn.

"Linda, please go into the house," Clark continued, still keeping his back to the teenagers.

"I think I'd rather stay out here," Linda replied.

"Excuse me?" Clark asked, finally turning around.

"Well, if I go into the house," Linda replied, "then there'll be no witnesses if you try to kill Jimmy."

"Now, why would I go and deny his mother that pleasure?" Clark asked, folding his arms as he stared at Jimmy; the photographer gulped nervously, then Clark looked right at Linda. "Go. House. Now."

"Linda, just go, okay?" Jimmy said softly. "I'll be fine."

Linda opened her mouth to protest, but she decided against it; she simply nodded. She shot Jimmy a sympathetic look—even though she was still a little upset with him—before she left the barn. Clark waited until he knew she was inside the house, using his x-ray vision and superhearing to quickly verify, then he looked back at Jimmy.

"Okay," he said, "talk."

"Alright," Jimmy replied, shrugging his shoulders, "predictions are for the Sharks to go all the way to AFC, but people think they're gonna choke and lose to the Steelers." Clark glared at him; Jimmy knew he was getting angrier, but he didn't care. "We're supposed to get a bit of a cold front next week."

"Three strikes, and you're history," Clark said bluntly.

"Really?" Jimmy asked. "I thought you were gonna let my mother have the honor of murdering me, Clark," he defiantly crossed his arms, "or did you just blatantly lie to your own cousin less than two minutes ago?"

"Okay, what is going on, Jimmy?" Clark asked, frustrated.

"I'm fine," Jimmy answered, adverting his eyes.

"Yeah, uh huh," Clark replied, unconvinced. "So, that's why you snuck out of your apartment at four-thirty in the morning, drove three hours to sneak into Linda's school, and then hide in the boy's bathroom just so you can find some punk and beat him up?" Jimmy didn't say anything, but Clark didn't have to read the teenager's mind to know he'd hit the mark; the reporter's expression soften as he took in a deep breath and let it out.

"Look, Jimmy," he continued, his voice calmer, "I know Linda told about what Darrien said to her, and I have a pretty good idea you felt the way I did: you wanted to separate Darrien's head from his shoulders."

"And probably a few other body parts," Jimmy muttered.

Clark smiled ever so slightly. "But we both know what you did was really stupid—and more importantly, dangerous. What if something had happened to you on the way out here? No one would have known where you were."

Jimmy shrugged. "I don't think anyone's going to have to worry about that any more," he said. "I doubt I'll be allowed to come back out here for a very long time."

"Probably," Clark replied, "but you and Linda will still be able to talk…eventually."

"I doubt it," Jimmy said, his voice slightly bitter. "Linda made it quite clear she needs some space right now, so I'm not sure how much talking we're going to be doing." He dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. "At least Malverne gets to see her every day." He took in a deep breath and shook his head slowly. "I guess I'm just a screw up."

"Jimmy, you made a mistake," Clark said.

"Linda said I scared her," Jimmy replied, "and she was right. I saw the look she gave me after Darrien and I'd been pulled apart: for a moment she looked at me like she didn't even recognize who I was—like she was scared of me for a brief second—and I couldn't blame her. I wanted to hurt Darrien, like **really** hurt him."

Clark sighed. "Jimmy, you know what Linda's life was like before Smallville, right?" Jimmy nodded, and Clark thought for a moment before he continued. "Well, she's just very…sensitive to…intense emotions…because of her health."

"And not because her parents were jerks?" Jimmy muttered. He saw Clark's confused expression and sighed. "Last time I was out here Linda told me her parents weren't exactly the nicest people around."

"What did she tell you?" Clark asked cautiously.

"Just that they considered her to be a burden," Jimmy replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah," Clark replied.

"And then I go and completely scare her," Jimmy continued, his anger building. He suddenly turned and kicked a wooden post multiple times in frustration; Clark just watched silently, knowing he needed to just get it out. After Jimmy finished, he stood there, breathing hard, calming down, his head hung in defeat. "She's never going to want to be around me again."

"If that was the case," Clark said as he walked over, "then she wouldn't have tried to stay and protect you." He put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "Just give her some time, okay?" Jimmy nodded. "Now, why don't you go dump the wheelbarrow, and then we can go inside. There's some leftover apple pie in the fridge." He gave Jimmy a bit of a smile, and Jimmy attempted one of his own, even if it came out more like a slight grimace; he sighed as he walked slowly over to the wheelbarrow.

* * *

The rest of the day went off uneventfully. Jimmy had gotten some ice for his bruises, while he endured another lecture from the Kents—this time about hiding injuries. Linda had managed to finish all her homework in a discreet manner, and dinner had been…nice, considering Jimmy knew it was probably the last meal he was ever going to have; everything had been cooked to perfection—the pot roast, potatoes, green beans—and there was even room for dessert. The Kents had also treated the photographer as if nothing had happened, that he just happened to be visiting, but he noticed that Linda was quieter than usual; she only responded to questions and seemed to push food around more than actually eat any.

After dinner, the adults volunteered to do the dishes and clean the kitchen, allowing the teenagers to spend some time together—as long as they didn't venture off the porch. Both Jimmy and Linda leaned on their arms against the porch rail, the soft breeze cool and refreshing on their faces. For a long time, they just stared up at the stars, then Jimmy glanced over at Linda; the soft glow from the kitchen made her look almost angelic, even though he could tell she was upset.

"You were pretty quiet tonight at the table," he said.

"Mmm," Linda replied softly, still staring forward.

"You also didn't eat much," Jimmy continued.

"Mmm," Linda repeated.

"Always bring a banana to a party," Jimmy added.

Linda furrowed her eyebrows as she turned her head to look at him. "Did you just quote the Tenth Doctor?" she asked.

Jimmy smiled a little. "It got you to say more than 'mmm,'" he replied. Linda gave him a small smile, but Jimmy could tell it was forced. Jimmy's smile faded, and he sighed. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" Linda shook her head, but Jimmy was unconvinced. "Look, I know I freaked you out today, and I'm really, really sorry."

"I know," Linda replied.

"And I never wanted you to ever look at me like…like you were scared of me," Jimmy added.

Linda sighed. "I know," she said, looking a little embarrassed. "Looking back, it's really kind of stupid that it bothered me so much."

"Don't," Jimmy said. "I mean, considering your life before coming here, you had every right to be a little freaked out." He stared at her, as if he was trying to read her.

"What?" Linda asked.

Jimmy opened his mouth, like he was about to say something extremely important, then he sighed. "Nothing," he said.

"Are you sure?" Linda asked.

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it," he answered. "Not really the best time for it anyway."

"Okay," Linda said slowly, a little confused and disappointed. The two went back to staring up at the sky for a few moments before they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. The teenagers looked down as a 2011 Crown Victoria pulled up to the scalloped fence and stopped.

Jimmy winced. "Nice knowing you, Linda," he said.

"Who's that?" Linda asked as the car engine turned off.

"My mother," Jimmy replied bluntly.

(End of Chapter 15)


	16. Chapter 16

Linda watched with curiosity as a man and woman got out of the car. The man was tall, with graying hair that thinned out on the top, a pleasant yet forgettable face, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a dark shirt with a light brown jacket over it, dark jeans, and black work boots. The woman was of average height, with red hair, and she wore a black pants suit with black flats. Even from the distance Linda could see they both looked very angry as they headed towards the house. The young girl glanced at Jimmy, and she could see the fear in his eyes as he tried to appear casual.

"Mom," he said, his voice squeaking a little, "Bibbo. Nice night, huh?"

"I wouldn't joke if I were you, Jimmy," Bibbo replied. "You're in enough hot water as it is." He glanced over at the young girl beside Jimmy. "You must be Linda. Jimmy's mentioned you a few times." He held out his hand. "Bibbo Bibbowksi, nice to meet you."

"Hi," Linda replied softly, cautiously shaking the man's hand.

Bibbo nodded at the red-haired woman. "This is Sarah Olsen," he said.

Sarah Olsen nodded politely at Linda. "Hello, Linda," she replied brusquely before looking back at her son. "James Bartholomew Olsen, what were you thinking?"

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he replied.

"You don't, huh?" Sarah said. "Well, why don't you think about it while Mr. Bibbowski and I go and talk with Linda's parents." The adults headed over to the door, and Sarah knocked a couple of times; a few moments passed before Jonathan opened the door.

"Sarah," he replied. "Mr. Bibbowski, come on in." The adults walked in, and Jonathan glanced at the two teens before shutting the door. Linda stared at the wall and was tempted to use her X-ray vision, but she didn't. She turned back to Jimmy, who looked like he was being led to Death Row. "You okay?"

"No, I'm counting the minutes until my execution," Jimmy replied wryly.

Linda looked a little sympathetic. "So, how long do you think you're going to be grounded?"

"Probably until the end of the century," Jimmy replied wryly, "but I'll try to talk her into letting me out after two thousand fifty."

Linda smiled a little. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Jimmy replied.

"Bartholomew?" Linda asked, smiling more.

Jimmy cringed. "It was my grandfather's name." He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm sure the guy was awesome and all, but I would have preferred Tiberius." He grinned at his joke, but he noticed Linda looked at him strangely; he sighed. "Right…you haven't seen Star Trek, yet." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look, I don't know how much time I have before my mom comes back out, so I just wanted to let you know I've been thinking about what you said…about needing some space: if that's what you need, then I'll back off and give you that space."

"Thanks," Linda said gratefully. "That means a lot to me, Jimmy." She leaned over and gently hugged him. "What would I do without you?"

Jimmy stiffened a little at those words, but he eventually hugged her back. "Probably wouldn't be in so much trouble," he joked softly.

Linda chuckled as she pulled away. "Actually, I think I manage quite well on my own," she said. "Just ask Clark."

Jimmy smiled a little as his eyes met Linda's. The two just stared at each other, then Jimmy slowly leaned in toward her. Linda could tell what he wanted to do, but she didn't back away; they were only a couple of inches apart when they heard the kitchen door open. The teenagers quickly pulled back as Clark walked out; he saw Jimmy and Linda trying to act casual, but the reporter decided not to ask.

"Jimmy," he said, "your mom wants to talk to you."

Jimmy and Linda glanced at each other, and Linda gave him a sympathetic expression. Clark stood aside as Jimmy sighed and wordlessly headed into the house; the reporter glanced at Linda.

"What about me?" Linda asked cautiously.

"I think it's best if you stay out here," Clark answered. Linda looked upset, and Clark sighed as he closed the door and walked over to his cousin. "So, you want to talk?"

"There's no much to talk about," Linda shrugged as she turned and leaned against the rail. "Just feel like everything's so…."

"Crazy?" Clark suggested as he leaned on the rail beside her.

"I was going to say 'wibbly wobbly,'" Linda replied, "but 'crazy' works, too." Clark glanced over and saw her eyes bright, and he gently put his arm around her shoulders.

"It does get better," he said softly.

"I hope so," Linda replied as she leaned her head against his side. Clark gently rested her head on hers, and the two just stared up as the stars twinkled in the night sky.

THE END


End file.
